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ON THE 


MEXICAN 


HIGHLANDS 


23Uh a llasBtniTi (Slimpsr oi (Tuba 


BY 


WILLIAM SEYMOUR EDWARDS 

Author of " In To The Yukon," " Through Scaa- 

dinaviA ti) Mi.iLL.w," etc. 


nNCINNATI 








I NOV 18^90? i 






I fi>f2.7€> 



Copyright, 1906, by 
William Seymour Edwards 




Julius H. Seymour, Otto Ulrich von Schrader, 

Edmund Seymour, and Rudolph Matz, 

Companions, Comrades, and 

Fellow-Travellers of 

'*CAMP FLAP-JACK" 



FOREWORD 

These pages contain the impressions of a 
casual traveller — a few letters written to my 
friends. 

Upon the temperate Highlands of Mexico, 
a mile and more above the sea, I was astonished 
and delighted at the salubrity of climate, the fer- 
tility of soil, the luxuriance of tree and plant, 
the splendor and beauty of the cities, the intelli- 
gence and progressiveness of the people, the 
orderliness and beneficence of the governmental 
rule. 

In Cuba I caught the newborn sentiment for 
liberty and order, and at the same time came 
curiously into touch with restive leaders, who 
even then boldly announced the intention to plot 
and wreck that liberty and order by sinister 
revolution, if their wild spirits should find no 
other way to seize and hold command. 

S 



Foreword 

If there shall be aught among these letters 
to interest the reader, I shall welcome another 
to the little circle for whose perusal they were 
originally penned. 

William Seymour Edwards. 

Charleston-Kanawha, West Virginia, 
November 1, 1906. 



CONTENTS 

Chaiter Page 

I. Flying Impressions between Charles- 
ton-Kanawha AND New Orleans, - 15 
II. The Life and Color of New Orleans, 25 

III. SOUTHWESTWARD TO THE BORDER, - - -^6 

IV. On to Mexico City, - -- - 44 
V. First Impressions of Mexico City, - 56 

VI. Vivid Characteristics of Mexican Liee, 65 

VII. A Mexican Bullfight, - - - -75 

VIII. From Pullman Car to Mule-back, - ^(i 

IX. A Journey Over Lofty Tablelands, - 99 

X. A Provincial Despot and His Residence, 107 

XI. Inguran Mines — Five Thousand Six 

Hundred Feet Below Ario, - - 117 

XII. Antique Methods of Mining, - - 128 

XIII. Some Tropical Financial Morality, - 142 

XIV. Wayside Incidents in the Land of Heat, 157 
XV. MoRELiA — The Capital of the State 

OF Michoacan — Her Streets — Her 

Parks — Her Churches — Her Music, 168 

7 



Page 



Contents 

Chapter 
XVI. MORELIA AND TOLUCA ThE MARKETS 

The Colleges — The Schools — ^The 
Ancient and the Modern Spirit, - i8i 
XVII. Cuernavaca — The Country Seat of 
Montezuma, of Cortez and Spanish 
Viceroys, of Maximilian — A Pleas- 
ant Watering Place of Modern 

Mexico, i88 

XVIII. The Journey by Night from Mexico 
City — Over the Mountains to the 
Sea Coast — The Ancient City of 

Vera Cruz, 198 

XIX. Voyaging Across the Gulf of Mexico 
and Straits of Yucatan from Vera 
Cruz to Progresso and Havana, - 210 

XX. The City of '^ Habana " — Incidents of 
A Day's Sojourn in the Cuban Cap- 
ital, ".""■"" 220 
XXI. Cuba — The Fortress of La Caba^Ja, - 236 
XXII. Cuba — Her Fertile Sugar Lands — 

Matanzas by the Sea, - - - 247 

XXIII. Cuba — The Tobacco Lands of Guanajay 

— ^The Town and the Bay of Mariel, 259 

XXIV. Steamer Mascot — Conclusion, - - 270 



TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Pacing Page 

The Six Comrades of Camp Flap- Jack, 1881, - - - 3 

A Vista of Mexico [Frontispiece] , 15 - - 

Log Cabin OF Kentucky Mountaineer, - - - - 19-' 

Picking Cotton, Mississippi, 21 "^ 

Jackson Statue, 28 '^ 

The Cabildo, 30 

Hauling Cotton, New Orleans, 32 

Along the Levee, New Orleans, 34 

Ancient French Pavements, 39 

The Alamo, - - 41 

Old Spanish Convent, 42 

The Desolate Plains, 46 

Awaiting our Train, 49 

Mules Carrying Corn, -- 51 

A Cargadore Bearing Vegetables, 53 

Patio, Hotel Iturbide, 55 

A Snap-shot for a^Centavo, 56 

Cargadores Toting Casks, 57 

My Protectors of the Market, 58 

Errand Boys of the Market, 58 

A Rancherro Dude, 60 

The Cathedral— Mexico City, - - - - - 62 

La Casa de Azulejos— Now Jockey Club, - - - - 64 

Pleased with My Camera, 67 

9 



Table of Illustrations 

Facing Page 

Volcano de Popocatepetl, 69 

A Pulque Peddler, 71 

A Friend of My Kodak, 72 

DuLCE Vender, 73 

Volcano de Iztaccihuatl, 74 

Setting a Banderilla, 76 

Teasing El Toro, 78 

The Gardens of Chapultepec, 81 

Manzanillo's Fatal Thrust, 83 

Juarez' Tomb and Wreaths of Silver, - - - - 85 
The Tree Where Cortez Wept, El Noche Triste, - 87 

Lake Patzcuaro, 90 

Our Departure — Fonda Diligencia, 92 

The Dismantled Convent, Patzcuaro, - - - - 94 

Izus AND El Padre, 96 

The Highway to the Pacific, 101 

Nearing Ario, 103 

A Milk Ranch near Ario, 106 

The Author — Plaza Grande, Ario, 108 

The Distant Cordillera, 113 

Begging a Centavo, - - 115 

The Jefe Politico and Soldiers, ----- 117 

Transferring the Prisoner, 119 

Cooling the Horses — Rancho Nuevo, - - - - 121 

A Wild Fig-tree — La Playa, 122 

Volcano de Jorullo, 124 

Rancho San Pedro, 126 

In Flight from My Kodak, 128 

The Ancient Stamp Mill, 131 

Copper Ore Dumps— La China Mines, - - - - 133 

Moving a Mansion, 135 

10 



Table of Illustrations 

Facing Page 
Bringing Out the Ore — La China Mines, - - - 137 

Washing Copper Ore, 138 

An Ancient Dump of Copper Ore, - - - - 140 

The Llanos — Hawk Poised upon an Organ Cactus, - - 142 

The Mighty Cordillera, ■ 147 

Vaqueros Crossing the Rio de las Balsas, - - . 151 

The Landing, Rio de las Balsas, 154 

Arranging a Battle, 158 

The Victor, - 158 

A Flock of Sheep near Ario, -,---- 165 v 

A Street Scene— Patzcuaro, 167" 

A Vista in Morelia, 170 

The Cathedral of Morelia, - - - - - - 172 

A Wild Otome in Flight from My Kodak, - - - 181 
A Diligencia — ToLUCA, - - - - *- - - 183 

A Snap-shot through a Doorway— Toluc a, - - - 186 

Suspicious of My Camera, 188 

My Cocha — Cuernavaca, 193 

Shrine of the Virgin of Guadaloupe — Cuernavaca, - 195 

The Borda Gardens — Cuernavaca, 197 

Aztec Indians — Mexico City, 199 

Volcano de Orizaba, 202 

The Municipal Palace — Vera Cruz, - . - - 204 

The Tame Vultures of Vera Cruz, 206 

A Noble Palm, 208 

A Street of Vera Cruz, 211 

The Little Boys Leaving Our Ship, - - - - 213 

Off for Progresso, -------- 215 

The Harbor OF Havana, ------ 218 

A Spanish Hotel— Havana, 220. 

Calle Obispo — Havana, 222 

II 



Table of Illustrations 

Pacing Page 
The Cathedral— Havana, ------- 227 

The First Greensward— Havana, 229 

Selling Vegetables— Havana, 231 

A Corner of the Market— Havana, - - - - 234 
The Fortress of La Caban^a, - - - - - - 236 

The Entrance TO La Cabana, 238 

Where Patriots were Shot— La CABAf^A, - - - - 243 

A Spanish Park — Matanzas, 247 

The Wreck of the Maine, 250 

A Glimpse of Matanzas, 254 

Dressed for the Day, 259 

Along the Military Road — A Ceiba Tree, - - - 263 

The Bay of Mariel, 266 

Wreck of the Alfonso XH, 270 

Key West Light — The Southern Extremity of the 
United States, -------- 277 

Map of My Journey, -------- 283 



12 



ON THE MEXICAN HIGHLANDS 




A VISTA OF MEXICO 



Flying Impressions Between Cliarleston- 
Kanawha and New Orleans 

New Orleans, Louisiana, 

November 15th. 

When the New York and Cincinnati Flyer 
(the "F. F. V. Limited") came into Charleston 
yesterday, it was an hour late and quite a crowd 
was waiting to get aboard. Going with me as far 
as Kenova were D, H, and eight or ten of "the 
boys." They all carried Winchesters and were 
bound on a trip to the mountains of Mingo and 
McDowell, on the Kentucky line, to capture a 
moonshine still which was reported to be doing a 
fine business selling to the mines. D wanted me 
to go along, and offered me a rifle or a shotgun, 
as I chose. They are big men, all of them, and 
love a scrap, which means the give and take of 
death, and have no fear except of ambush. I 
still carry in my pocket the flat-nosed bullet D 
took from the rifle of Johnse Hatfield two years 
ago, when he caught him lying-in-wait behind a 
rock watching for Doc. Ellis to come forth from 

15 



Dn the Mexican Highlands 

his front door. Johnse was afterward hanged in 
Plkevllle for other crimes. Then, a few months 
later, his brother "Lias," just to get even, picked 
off Doc. Ellis as he was getting out of a Pullman 
car. Now "Lias" is said to be looking for D, 
also, but D says he 's as handy with his gun as 
"Lias" is, if only he can get a fair show. D is 
captain of this raid and promises to bring me 
tokens of a successful haul, but I am apprehensive 
that, one of these days, he or some other of "the 
boys" will not come back to Charleston. 

At Ashland my Louisville car was attached to 
the Lexington train, and we turned to the left up 
the long grade and soon plunged Into the hill 
country of eastern Kentucky. Here is a rough, 
harsh land, a poor, yellow soil, underlying miles of 
forest from which the big timber has long since 
been felled. Here and there small clearings con- 
tain log cabins, shack barns, and soil which must 
always produce crops as mean as the men who till 
It. We were traversing the land of the vendettas. 
At the little stations, long, lank, angular men were 
gathered, quite frequently with a rifle or a Win- 
chester shotgun in their bony hands. It was only 
two or three years ago that one of these passenger 
trains was "held up," by a rifle-armed gang, 
who found the man they were looking for crouch- 
ing In the end of the smoker, and shot him to death 

i6 



Flying Impressions 

right then and there — ^but not before he had killed 
two or three of the assassins. 

I had gone forward Into the smoking car, for 
it IS in the day coaches where one meets the people 
of the countryside when traveling. I had seated 
myself beside a tall, white-haired old man who 
was silently smoking a stogie, such as Is made by 
the local tobacco growers of this hill country. He 
had about him the air of a man of Importance. 
He was dressed In homespun jeans and wore the 
usual slouch felt hat. He had a strong, command- 
ing face, with broad, square chin and a blue eye 
which bespoke friendliness, and yet hinted of In- 
exorable sternness. I gave him my name and told 
him where I lived, and whither I was going, intro- 
ducing myself as one always must when talking 
to these mountain people. He was a republican, 
like myself, he said, and had several times been 
sheriff of his county ; but that was many years ago 
and he declared himself to be now "a man of 
peace." We talked of the vendettas and he told 
me of a number of these tragedies. When I made 
bold to ask him whether he had ever had any 
"trouble" himself, he replied, *'No, not for right 
smart o* yearn ;" and then he slowly drew from his 
trousers pocket, a little buckskin bag, and unwound 
the leathern thong with which It was fast tied. 
Having opened It he took out three misshapen 

2 17 



'On the Mexican Highlands 

pieces of lead and handed them to me, remarking, 
" 'T was many yearn ago I cut them thar pieces 
of lead, and four more of the same kind, from this 
h'yar leg of mine," slapping his hand upon his 
right thigh. "But where are the other four?" I 
queried. For an Instant the blue eyes dilated and 
glittered as he replied, "I melted 'em up Into bul- 
lets agen, and sent 'em back whar they cum from." 
"Did you kill him?" I asked. The square jaws 
broadened grimly, and he said, "Wall, I do n't say 
I killed him, but he ain't been seen aboot thar 
sence." I offered him one of my best cigars, and 
turned to the subject of the horses of Kentucky. 
He was going to Lexington, he said, to attend the 
horse sales the coming week and he begged me to 
"light off with him," for he was sure I would there 
"find a beast" I would delight to own. I prom- 
sled to visit him some day when I should return, 
and he has vouched to receive me with all the hos- 
pitality for which Kentucky mountaineers, as well 
as blue grass gentlemen, are famed. 

When we had come quite through the hill 
region, we rolled out Into a country with better 
soil, and land more generally cleared, and much 
in grass. It was the renowned blue grass section 
of Kentucky, and at dark we were In Lexington. 
Twinkling lights were all that I could see of the 
noted town. The people who were about the sta- 

i8 




LOG CABIN OF KENTUCKY MOUNTAINEER 



Flying Impressions 

tion platform were well dressed and looked well 
fed, and a number of big men climbed aboard. 

We arrived at Louisville half an hour late. 
This was fortunate, for we had to wait only an 
hour for the train to Memphis, via Paducah. Two 
ladies, who sat behind me when I entered the car 
at Charleston, stood beside me when I secured my 
ticket in the Memphis sleeper and took the section 
next to mine. It had been my intention to change 
trains at Memphis, take the Yazoo Valley Railway 
and go via Vicksburg, thinking that I might see 
something of the Mississippi River; but in the 
morning I met a young engineer of the Illinois 
Central Railroad, who told me that this route had 
a very bad track, the cars were poor, the trains 
slow, while the line itself lay ten or twelve miles 
back from the river so that I should never see it; 
therefore, I decided to stick to the through fast 
train on which I had started, and go on to New 
Orleans by the direct route down through central 
Mississippi. 

When I awoke we were speeding southward 
through the wide, flat country of western Tennes- 
see. We passed through acres of cornstalks from 
which the roughness (the leaves of the corn) and 
ears had been plucked, through broad reaches of 
tobacco stumps, and here and there rolled by a 
field white with cotton. 

19 



On the Mexican Highlands 

In the toilet room of the sleeper I found my- 
self alone with a huge, black-bearded, curly-headed 
planter, who was alternately taking nips from a 
gigantic silver flask and ferociously denouncing the 
Governor of Indiana for refusing to surrender Ex- 
governor Taylor to the myrmidons of Kentucky 
law, to be there tried by a packed jury for the 
assassination of Governor Goebel. I finally felt 
unable to keep silent longer, and told him that I 
did not see the justice of his position, and reminded 
him that the Governors of the neighboring States 
of West Virginia, Ohio and Illinois had publicly 
expressed their approval of the Governor of In- 
diana, and their disapproval of the political meth- 
ods then prevailing in Kentucky. He looked stead- 
ily at me with an air of some surprise, then stretch- 
ing out his flask begged me to take a drink with 
him. He thereafter said no more on politics, but 
talked for half an hour of the tobacco and cotton 
crops of western Tennessee. 

We arrived in Memphis at about ten o'clock 
of the morning and stopped there some time. In 
the big and dirty railway station I felt myself al- 
ready in a country other than West Virginia. 

Memphis, the little I saw of it, appeared to be 
a straggling, shabby town, with wide, dusty streets, 
and many rambling dilapidated buildings. The 
people had lost the rosy, hearty look of the blue 

20 




PICKING COTTON— MISSISSIPPI 



Flying Impressions 

grass country, and .were pale and sallow, while 
increasingly numerous everywhere were the ebony- 
hued negroes. We were passing from the latitude 
of the mulattoes to that of the jet-blacks, the pure 
blooded Africans. 

Leaving Memphis, we turned southeastward 
and then due south, through the central portions 
of the state of Mississippi. Here spreads a flat 
country, with thin, yellow soil in corn and cotton. 
Everywhere were multitudes of negroes, all black as 
night. Negro women and children were picking 
cotton in the fields. There were wide stretches of 
apparently abandoned land, once under cultivation, 
much of it now growing up in underbrush and 
much of It white with ripened seedling cotton. In 
many places the blacks were gathering this cotton, 
apparently for themselves. There were a few 
small towns, at long intervals. Everywhere bales 
of cotton were piled on the railway station plat- 
forms ; generally the big, old-fashioned bales, occa- 
sionally the small bale made by the modern com- 
press. This is the shipping season, and we fre- 
quently passed teams of four and six mules, haul- 
ing large wagons piled high with cotton bales 
coming toward the railway stations. We passed 
through great forests of the long-leaved yellow 
pine, interspersed with much cottonwood and mag- 
nolia, while the leaves of the sumach marked with 

21 



On the Mexican Highlands 

vivid red the divisions of the clearings and the 
fields. The day was dull and cloudy and a chill 
lingered in the air. The two lady travelers sat all 
day long with their curtains down and never left 
their books. The scenery and life of Mississippi 
held no interest for them. 

In the late afternoon we passed through Mis- 
sissippi's capital, Jackson, and could see in the dis- 
tance the rising walls of the new statehouse, to be 
a white stone building of some pretentions. Here 
a number of Italians and Jews, well dressed and 
evidently well-to-do, entered our sleeper en route 
to New Orleans. The country trade of Missis- 
sippi is said to be now almost altogether in the 
hands of Jews and of Italians. The latter coming 
up from New Orleans, are acquiring many of the 
plantations in both Mississippi and Louisiana, as 
well as, in many cases, pushing out the blacks from 
the work on the plantations by reason of their su- 
perior intelligence, industry and thrift. A lull in 
Italian immigration followed the New Orleans 
massacre of the Mafia plotters some years ago, but 
that tragedy is now quite forgotten, and a steady 
influx of Italians of a better type has set in. 

In the dining car, I sat at midday lunch with 
a round-faced, pleasant mannered man some forty 
years of age, with whom I fell into table chat. 
He was a writer on the staff of a western monthly 

22 



Flying Impressions 

magazine and was well acquainted with the country 
we were traversing. He pointed out places of 
local Interest as we hurried southward, while many 
incidents of history were awakened in my own 
mind. All of this land of swamp and bayou and 
cotton field had been marched and fought over by 
the contending armies during the Civil War. Here 
Grant skirmished with Johnston and won his first 
great triumphs of strategy in the capture of Vicks- 
burg. Here the cotton planters in "ye olden time" 
lived like lords and applauded their senators in 
Congress for declaring In public speech that "Mis- 
sissippi and Louisiana wanted no public roads." 
Here Spain and France contended for supremacy 
and finally yielded to the irresistible advance of 
the English-speaking American pioneer, pressing 
southwestward from Georgia, Carolina and Ten- 
nessee. 

It was still the same flat country when, near 
dusk', we entered Louisiana. At the first station 
where we stopped an old man was offering for sale 
jugs of "new molasses" and sticks of sugar cane — 
the first hint that we were surely below the latitude 
of the frosts. 

It was a murky night, no stars were out, only 
a flash of distant electric lights told us that we 
were approaching New Orleans. We were in the 
city before I was aware. Quickly passing many 

23 



On the Mexican Highlands 

unllghted streets, we were suddenly among dimly 
lighted houses, and then drew into an old-time de- 
pot, a wooden building yet more dilapidated than 
that of Memphis. We were instantly surrounded 
by a swarm of negroes. There were acres of them 
with scarcely a white face to be seen. I made out 
one of the swarthy blacks to be the porter of the 
new St. Charles Hotel. Giving him my bags, I 
was piloted to an old-fashioned 'bus and was soon 
driving over well asphalted streets amidst electric 
lights, and found myself in the thoroughfares of 
a really great city. From broad Canal Street we 
turned down a narrow alley and drew up in front 
of a fine modern hotel. This is an edifice of iron, 
stone and tile, with seemingly no wood in its struc- 
ture, large, spacious and filled with guests, the 
chief hostelry of New Orleans, and worthy of the 
modern conditions now prevailing in this Spanish- 
French-American metropolis of the Gulf States. 



24 



II 

The Life and Color of New Orleans 

New Orleans, Louisiana, 

No'vember 16th. 

After a well-served dinner in the spacious 
dining-room of the hotel, where palms and orange 
trees yellow with ripened fruit and exhaling the 
fragrance of living growth were set about in great 
pots, I lighted my cigar and strolled out upon 
narrow St. Charles street. Following the tide of 
travel I soon found myself upon that chief artery 
of the city's life, — boulevard, avenue and business 
thoroughfare all in one — stately Canal street. It 
was crowded with a slowly moving multitude, 
which flowed and ebbed and eddied, enjoying the 
soft warm air beneath the electric lights and stars. 
I quickly became a part of it, taking pleasure in 
its leisurely sauntering company. 

The typical countenance about me was of the 
dark, swarthy Latin south, and tall men were 
rarely met. Among the gossiping, good natured 
promenaders of Canal street there is none of the 
haste which marks New York's lively *'Rialto;" 

25 



On the Mexican Highlands 

none of the scurry and jam which jostles you in 
brusque Chicago. In New Orleans there is an air 
of contented ease in the movement of the most 
poorly clad. Even the beggars lack the energy to 
be importunate. 

At a later hour, crossing the wide thorough- 
fare, I was at once among narrow streets, the rues 
of the Vieux Carre, the Quartier Francais, — the 
Quartter now, but once all that there was of New 
Orleans. The transition was sharp. The build- 
ings hinted of Quebec and Montreal, and of Old 
France. Balconies clung to second stories, high 
adoby and stucco walls were entered by narrow, 
close-barred doorways, latticed windows looked 
down upon the passer-by, and now and then, I 
fancied behind their jalousies the flash of dark 
eyes. My ear, too, caught softly sonorous accents 
which are foreign to the harsher palatals and sibi- 
lants of English. Beneath a glaring electric arc 
two swarthy pickaninnies were pitching coppers 
and eagerly ejaculating in curious, soft French. 
A man and a woman were chaffering at a corner 
meat shop, seller and buyer both vociferating in an 
unfamiliar tongue. I was hearing, for the first 
time, the Creole patois of old New Orleans. 

Along one narrow rue — all streets are rues and 
all rues are narrow here — ^were many brilliant 

lights. It was the rue where cafes and wine 

26 



Life and Color of New Orleans 

shops and quiet restaurants abound. When last in 
New York M B, had posted me and said, *'If 
ever you shall be in New Orleans, go to the 

Cafe . Go there and if you care to taste a 

pompano before you die, a pompano cooked as 
only one mortal on this earth can do the job, go 
there and whisper to the chef that 'I 'm your 
friend.' " So I went and found the chef and ever 
since have dreamed about that fish. The room 
was large; its floor was sanded and scrupulously 
clean. Many little tables were set along the walls. 
Pangs of hunger griped me the instant I peered 
within that door. I grew hungrier as I sat and 
watched the zest and relish with which those about 
me stowed away each dainty fragment. I was 
ready for that pompano when at last it came. I 
have eaten this fish in New York, in Baltimore, 
in Washington and in Richmond, and ever as I 
came further south did the delicacy of its flesh and 
flavor grow. Now, the long leap to New Orleans 
has given me this gourmet's joy fresh taken from 
the waters of the Gulf. I ate with slow and leis- 
urely delight, letting my enamored palate revel 
in the symphony of flavor, sipping my claret, and 
watching the strange company which filled the 
room. The men were mostly in evening dress — 
lawyers, bankers and business men. They had 
come in from the theatre or, perhaps, had spent 

27 



On the Mexican Highlands 

the evening over cards. At some of the tables 
were only men, at others ladies were present, 
young, comely and, many of them, elegantly 
gowned. Black eyes were dominant among these 
belles, and here and there I fancied that I caught 
the echo, in some of their complexions, of that 
warmer splendor of the tropics which just a dash 
of African blood when mixed with white, so often 
gives, and which has made the octoroon demoiselles 
of New Orleans famous for brilliant beauty the 
world around. It was a gay company, full of chat 
and laughter and gracious manner — the gracious- 
ness of well-bred Latin blood. 

When, at last, my pompano was vanished, and 
the claret gone, and I regretfully quitted the shel- 
ter of La it was long past the stroke of 

twelve, yet the cafe was still crowded and the 
Fieux Carre was alight and astir as though it were 
early in the night. Again crossing Canal street, 
I found the American city dark and silent. I hur- 
riedly went my way to the hotel, my footsteps echo- 
ing with that strange, reverberating hollowness 
which marks the tread upon the deserted, midnight 
city street. 

In the morning I was up betimes, taking a cup 
of coffee and a roll, and then making my way 
down St. Charles street and crossing Canal to the 
rue Royale, passing the open gates of the old 

28 











.*" .. 








^ 


f 


l^p^*^^ 




/ 


•^ 




1^ 








JACKSON STATUE— NEW ORLEANS 



Life and Color of New Orleans 

convent garden of the Ursulines, now the Arch- 
bishop's palace, and turning into the rue St. 
Petre, then into Jackson Square. The air was 
cool. The world had not quite waked up. The 
gardeners with their water carts were giving the 
morning bath to the lawns and flowers of the park. 
A friendly mannered policeman had just disturbed 
two tramps from their nightly slumber, bidding 
them move on. I sat down upon a stone bench 
near where they had slept and looked across at the 
old Spanish-French Cathedral of St. Louis and 
the municipal buildings of the courts, the Cabildo 
and Hotel de Ville — architectural monuments of 
an already shadowy past. The chimes were ring- 
ing to matins and the devout were entering to the 
early mass. 

I watched the hurrying groups, musing the 
while upon the picture before me. Here, the Ca- 
nadian de Bienville, and Cadillac and Aubry and 
their French compeers, as well as the Spanish Cap- 
tains General, from Don Juan de Ulloa to Don 
Manuel Salcedo had offered up their thanks for 
safe arrival from dangerous voyages across un- 
charted seas. Here, Don Antonio O'RIelly, Ha- 
vana's murderous Irish Governor, had ordered his 
Spanish musketeers to shoot to death the Creole 
patriots, Lafreniere, Milhet, Noyant, Marquis, 
Caresse, that devoted band who refused to believe 

29 



On the Mexican Highlands 

that Monsieur le Due de Choiseul and his Majesty, 
Louis XV, le hien aime — had secretly made cold- 
blooded sale of the fair Province of Louisiana to 
Spain. Here, Citizen Laussat, by order of Na- 
poleon, had surrendered the great Louisiana Prov- 
ince to General Wilkinson and Governor Clai- 
borne, the Commissioners of Thomas Jefferson, 
who thereby added an empire to the dominion of 
the young government of the United States. Here, 
also, had been celebrated with so much pomp and 
trumpet fanfare the victory of Andrew Jackson's 
border riflemen over Pakenham's Peninsular vet- 
erans. The historic Place d'Armes has been re- 
christened Jackson Square, and "Old Hickory" 
now rides his big horse in the midst of a lovely 
municipal garden. In later years, here also had 
Confederate Mayor and Federal General posted 
their decrees and proclamations, among the latter 
that famous ^'General Order No. 28," wherein 
the doughty General presumed to teach good man- 
ners to the dames and demoiselles of New Orleans, 
and gained thereby the sobriquet * 'Beast Butler." 
The worshipers were returning from the mass. 
My reverie was at an end. I arose and, crossing 
the square, strolled over to Decatur Place toward 
the old French market by the river side. There 
I found much that reminded me of the greater 
Marche Central which I had visited one early 

30 




THE CABILDO— NEW ORLEANS 



Life and Color of New Orleans 

morning in Paris. There were the same daintiness 
and care in arranging and displaying the vege- 
tables, the same taste and skill in shov/ing the 
flowers, which are everywhere the glory of New 
Orleans. There were bushels of roses — the Mare- 
chal Neil, the gorgeous Cloth of Gold among the 
more splendid. Here also the butchers were carry- 
ing the meats upon their heads, just as they did in 
France, and the fish and game were as temptingly 
displayed. But the people of the market, though 
speaking the French tongue, were widely different. 
The swarthy tints of the tropics were here in evi- 
dence. Negresses black as night made me hon- 
jourf The venders and porters were ebony or 
mulatto, and even the buyers were largely tinctured 
with African blood, while the French they talked 
was a speech I could with difficulty comprehend. 
The sharp nasal twang of Paris was greatly soft- 
ened, and their "u" had lost that certain difficult 
liquidity which English and American mouths find 
it almost impossible to attain. Curious two- 
wheeled carts loaded with brass milk cans were 
starting on their morning rounds, and lesser two- 
wheeled wagons were being loaded with vege- 
tables, meats and fish for the day's peddling 
throughout the city. Burdens were not so gener- 
ally borne upon the backs and shoulders as in 
France, although some of the women and a few 

31 



On the Mexican Highlands 

men were carrying their wares and goods upon the 
head with easy balance. 

The Vieux Carre has In It to me a certain note 
of sadness. As you wander along Its rues and 
ways you feel that, somehow or other, the days of 
Its importance and its power are forever gone. 
Mansions, once the imposing homes of the affluent, 
are now cracked and marred, and there seem to 
be none to put them Into good repair. Dilapida- 
tion broods over the Vieux Carre, You feel that 
the good old Creole days are surely fled. You 
realize that as the language of La Belle France 
Is disappearing, so the leisurely customs and easy 
habits of French New Orleans, before many years, 
will be submerged by the direct speech and com- 
mercial brusqueness of modern America. 

In the afternoon I rode many miles upon the 
trolley cars through and about the city, and par- 
ticularly along by the levees and through the fine 
avenue St. Charles, and the upper modern section. 
Low, very low, lies New Orleans, the greater part 
of it only a few feet above the water, really below 
the level of the Mississippi in times of flood. 
Many streets are now asphalted and kept compara- 
tively clean, but the greater portion of the city 
Is yet unpaved, or, when there is pavement at all, 
is still laid with the huge French blocks of granite 
(a foot or eighteen Inches square) put down two 

32 




HAULING COTTON— NEW ORLEANS 



Life and Color of New Orleans 

centuries ago. The city lies too close to perpetual 
dead water to permit of modern drainage and 
there are few or no underground sewers. The 
houses drain Into deep, open gutters along the 
streets between the sidewalks and the thorough- 
fares over which you must step; fresh water Is 
pumped Into these gutters and, combining with the 
inflowing sewerage, Is pumped out again Into the 
Mississippi. It is In this crude and unsanitary 
manner that New Orleans strives to keep meas- 
urably clean. 

The residence section. In the American city, 
contains many handsome mansions with wide lawns 
and a profusion of semltroplcal trees, and every- 
where are gardens — flower gardens that are riot- 
ous masses of roses and jasmines and splendid 
blooms. Just as the glory of England is her 
flowers, where no home Is too humble for a window 
box, so, too. Is It In New Orleans. However dirty 
she may be, however slovenly and slipshod, you 
must yet love the city for her flowers. Even the 
laborer's most humble cottage glows with its mass 
of color. 

New Orleans has no parks to boast of — Audu- 
bon Park is a mere ribbon of green — but the ceme- 
teries on her borders are really her parks. The 
live oaks In them hang with masses of drooping 
moss, and blossoming magnolias and shrubs are 

3 33 



On the Mexican Highlands 

everywhere. So near is the water to the surface, 
however, that there can be no burials within the 
earth, and the cemeteries are therefore filled with 
tombs built above the ground. Many of these are 
costly works of art. 

The city clings to the river where the Missis- 
sippi makes a great bend, like a half moon, to the 
southwest, whence its name, the "Crescent City." 
Only the big embankments, fourteen to fifteen feet 
in height, prevent the homes and gardens, as well 
as the entire business portion of the city, from 
being sometimes submerged by the angry waters 
of the great river. I found it strange, from a 
steamer's deck, lying at the levee, to be looking 
down into the city, ten or twenty feet below. It 
reminded me of Holland and of Rotterdam, except 
that there the waters are the dead and quiet pools 
of Dutch canals, while here they are the swelling 
restless tide of the more than mile-wide Missis- 
sippi. 

Along the levees were many ocean liners load- 
ing with molasses, sugar and cotton, chiefly cotton, 
in which there is an enormous and constantly in- 
creasing trade. The biggest ships now come up 
right alongside the wooden wharves of the levees, 
and for several miles lie there bow to stern. 

The theatres and business blocks, the custom- 
house, and city hall and other public buildings of 

34 



Life and Color of New Orleans 

New Orleans are none of them modern, but appear 
to have been built long years ago, yet, notwith- 
standing their marks of antiquity, the business part 
of the city is animate with stir and action. There 
is hope in men's faces in New Orleans, and the 
younger men are finding in the city's waxing com- 
merce opportunity for achievement which their 
forefathers never knew. With the completion of 
the Panama Canal, New Orleans will become one 
of the greatest of commercial ports. 

From New Orleans I shall go via the Southern 
Pacific Railway, crossing the Mississippi and trav- 
eling westward through Louisiana and Texas to 
San Antonio, Texas, and then I shall go south 
into Mexico. 



35 



Ill 

Southwestward to the Border 

(Written on the train and mailed at Laredo, Texas.) 

No'v ember 16th. 

The journey from New Orleans was some- 
what tedious, but yet so crowded with new sights 
that the time passed quite too quickly for me even 
to glance at the copy of Lew Wallace's Fair God, 
which I had bought in New Orleans for reading 
on the way. 

At 9 :45 A. M. I left the Hotel St. Charles 
and took the 'bus for the Southern Pacific Station, 
which is a shabby, weatherworn wooden building 
down by the water side, in the French quarter of 
the city. A large, ill-kept waiting room was 
crowded with emigrants — chiefly "crackers" and 
"po' white trash" from the cotton states. A wide 
gangway led to the clumsy puffing ferryboat which 
took us across the Mississippi to a series of long, 
low, wooden sheds where our transcontinental train 
awaited us. 

The ferry crosses the Mississippi from near the 

36 



Southwestward to the Border 

center of the bow, where the river sweeps In a 
giant curve against the crescent shore. The cur- 
rent is swift, and whether the waters be high or 
low, the river always hurries on with relentless 
eagerness toward the Gulf of Mexico, one hundred 
miles away. 

As I stood upon the boat and my eye swept 
up and down the river, the city stretched before 
me black and sombre beneath a heavy pall of 
smoke, flat and uninteresting, only here and there 
a spire or steeple lifting itself solitarily above the 
level monotony. But along the miles of levees 
there was activity and life. Ocean steamers were 
taking on cargo, and multitudes of river steam- 
boats were discharging freights of cotton bales and 
other upstream products, brought from the coal 
mines and wheat fields and plantations of Pennsyl- 
vania, West Virginia, and Ohio, Indiana and Illi- 
nois, Kentucky and Tennessee, of Wisconsin and 
Minnesota and Iowa, even from the Dakotas and 
Nebraska and Kansas, and from Missouri and 
Arkansas and Mississippi and Louisiana, for here 
converges the vast interior water-traffic of the con- 
tinent. (The enormous traffic of the Great Lakes 
is now urging Congress to give them ship canals 
and unimpeded access to New Orleans.) 

It is a prodigious traffic that steadily increases 
notwithstanding the competition of the railways 

37 



On the Mexican Highlands 

which are now penetrating everywhere, even into 
the rich plantation country. For some years after 
the Civil War, New Orleans seemed to be losing 
her one-time pre-eminence as a port. The railways 
to the north threatened to cut off her trade from 
above, the silting up of the Mississippi's mouths 
threatened to destroy her access to the sea. Then 
came the strong, wise hand of Uncle Sam, who 
built the magnificent jetty system contrived by 
Captain Eads, and New Orleans began to wake 
up. Her trade increased by leaps and bounds, 
the river traffic revived, and she became the mis- 
tress of a water commerce far exceeding what she 
had known before. Now not merely are her sub- 
urbs extending along the river, but her trade and 
commerce have crossed to the western shore, where 
a new and supplemental city is rapidly growing up. 
There, the Southern Pacific Railway and other 
western lines have erected their shops and fac- 
tories, laid out extensive yards and built great 
warehouses. There they unload and store the 
freight which Louisiana, Texas and the farther 
West send eastward for distribution to the eastern 
railway connections which carry it to the Gulf and 
Atlantic seaboard ports for export, and for deliv- 
ery to domestic consumption by inland water car- 
riage. 

We were to take the through San Francisco 

38 




ANCIENT FRENCH PAVEMENTS 



Southwestward to the Border 

Express, and I had anticipated a fine transconti- 
nental train, something Hke our own "F. F. V." 
which takes us from Kanawha to Cincinnati, or 
New York. But I was disappointed. The "Sun- 
set Limited," as it is called, consisted of two 
sleepers, hitched behind a number of shabby im-. 
migrant cars and old-fashioned passenger day 
coaches. None of these were vestibuled, and there 
was no dining car attached. I had secured, fortu- 
nately, several days in advance, a lower berth as 
far as San Antonio; but many passengers applied 
who could obtain no berths, and were allowed to 
crowd into the sleepers for lack of accommoda- 
tion in the day coaches, into which the swarming 
immigrants had overflowed. 

We were late in starting; we were late at 
every station along the road; we were an hour late 
when we arrived next morning at San Antonio; a 
poor beginning, surely, for a train that must jour- 
ney four long days and nights to the Pacific coast. 

We traversed a flat land, with many ditches 
and canals and pools of stagnant water lying a few 
feet below the level of the surface. The soil was 
black and rich. We crossed acres and acres, thou- 
sands of acres, of sugar-cane, and we saw many 
large mills, all using modern machinery for grind- 
ing cane and making sugar. Then there were 
fewer ditches, fewer canals, the land was higher, 

39 



On the Mexican Highlands 

slightly, and there were miles of cotton fields, the 
cotton yet in the boll, ripe for the picking. Then 
it was a land with many little ditches, and little 
dykes; there were rice fields to be flooded; and 
there were rice mills, — representing a large and 
rapidly increasing interest. Every extent of forest 
we passed hung heavy with gray moss and para 
sitic vines. There were many live oaks and pal 
mettoes and some cypress. The land was stil 
gradually rising, finally becoming drier, grass 
covered and grazed by herds of cattle and horses ; 
but it was flat, always flat. 

Toward dusk we passed through Beaumont, 
the famous oil town. This is the fateful place 
where millions of dollars have been made and 
lost within a few months. Ten years ago a group 
of our own Kanawha tenderfeet drilled here a 
four-hundred-foot dry hole, and abandoned the 
project, finding no oil within a stone's throw of 
the spot where, a few years later, Dan Lucas 
drilled down eight hundred feet, and struck his 
seventy-thousand-barrel gusher. There was an ex- 
cited "boom" throng at the station, and the trav- 
elers entering our car fairly buzzed thrilling talk 
of oil. Among them were a number of ladies, 
more bediamonded, bejeweled and begolded than 
any group of femininity I ever saw before. The 
men, too, wore flashing jewels and bore that dis- 

40 



Southwestward to the Border 

tinct stamp which marks those who, with noncha- 
lance, win or lose a fortune in a night. They were 
by all odds the toughest-looking lot of elegantly 
clad men and women I ever yet beheld. 

We passed Houston near midnight, and in the 
morning by eight o'clock were at San Antonio, a 
city of wide streets, and spacious parks adorned 
everywhere with palms and palmettoes and semi- 
tropical shrubs. We entered a 'bus and drove a 
mile to the station of the International and Great 
Northern Railway, which comes down from St. 
Louis and runs south seventy miles to Laredo, on 
the Rio Grande and the Mexican border. We 
passed the bullet-battered walls of the famous 
Alamo, the hallowed shrine of every loyal Texan, 
then a large Roman Catholic Cathedral with 
Spanish roof and bell tower, a huge convent 
and several stately public buildings. San Antonio 
is a city of forty thousand people and the last 
American town of magnitude north of Mexico. 
At the station, where we waited half an hour, I 
saw my first Mexican greasers, in their prodigious 
sombreros and began to feel myself nearing a 
strange land. 

Our train from the North drew in at nine 
o'clock, on time, all vestibuled, lighted with elec- 
tricity, with a dining car attached, and all its 
equipment greatly superior to that of the Southern 

41 



On the Mexican Highlands 

Pacific. It was one of the Gould trains from St. 
Louis to the far South. 

Leaving San Antonio, we traversed a country 
still flat, always flat, covered with sand and mes- 
qult for miles and miles and miles. As far as the 
eye could see in every direction, hour after hour 
stretched this Illimitable monotonous wilderness. 
The mesqult trees looked like Ill-grown peach 
trees. To my unaccustomed eye, we seemed to 
be passing through endless barren orchards, the 
trees standing generally thirty or forty feet apart. 
Here Is the home of the jack rabbit, and toward 
the Mexican border and within reach of the waters 
of the Rio Grande, deer abound. Quail are also 
common, but of other life there is little or none. 
Here and there the mesqult trees were cut away, 
and wide, sandy fields were planted with cotton. 
Cattle also were cropping the short, dry native 
grass. As we traveled south the grass diminished, 
the sand increased and the prickly cactus became 
Increasingly plentiful. At one of the stations 
where we stopped for the engine to take water, I 
talked with a tall white-bearded planter, who 
stood holding his horse, the horse accoutered with 
Mexican saddle and lariat, the man in high Mex- 
ican sombrero. **The labor hereabouts is all Mex- 
ican," he said. "Mexican peons you can import 
in unlimited numbers, who are glad to work for 

42 



Southwestward to the Border 

thirty cents per day and board themselves. Hence 
there are no negroes south of San Antonio, for no 
negro will work and hve on such small pay. 
Moreover, the soil is so poor and water is so 
scarce that neither cotton nor cattle could here be 
raised with profit, if it were not for the low wage 
the Mexican is glad to accept." 

We reached Laredo, a city of some five thou- 
sand inhabitants, about six o'clock, P. M., where 
I sent the following telegram, ''Cane, cotton, cat- 
tle, mesquit, sand and cactus, O. K.," which, 
though brief, sums up the country I have been 
traversing for the last two days. Laredo Is upon 
the American side of the Rio Grande, which is 
crossed by a long bridge to Nuevo Laredo, in the 
State of Nuevo Leon. Here smartly uniformed 
Mexican customs officers examined my baggage and 
passed me through. 



43 



IV 

On to Mexico City 

Mexico City, Mexico, 

No<vemher 18th. 

He llegado en esta ciudad, hoy, cerca las ocho 
de la manana! The moment we crossed the Rio 
Grande we changed instantly from American 
twentieth century civilization to mediaeval Latin- 
Indian. The Mexican town of Nuevo Laredo, 
the buildings, the women, the men, the boys, the 
donkeys, all were different. I felt as though I had 
waked up in another world. As we approached 
the station of the Mexican city, I noticed an old 
man riding upon his donkey. His saddle was 
fastened over the hips just above the beast's tail, 
his feet trailed upon the ground. He sat there 
with immense dignity and self-possession, viewing 
with curiosity the gringos, who had come down 
from the land of the distant North. He silently 
watched us for some moments and then rode sol- 
emnly away, while I wondered by what hand of 
Providence it was he did not slide off behind. 

44 



On to Mexico City 

From Nuevo Laredo to Monterey, which we 
reached at half past ten P. M., was all one flat 
mesquit and cactus-covered plain; sand, mesquit 
and cactus; cactus, sand and mesquit, mile after 
mile, till darkness fell upon us, when we could see 
no more. Monterey is the center of Mexico's 
steel and Iron industries, of large tobacco manu- 
factories, of extensive breweries. It is the chief 
manufacturing city of modern Mexico. Our stay 
was brief, and I caught only a glimpse of a 
cloaked and h'lgh-s ombreroed crowd, hurrying be- 
neath the glare of electric lamps, and then we 
passed on toward the great interior plateau of the 
Mexican Highlands. 

During the night it grew cold. I awoke 
shivering and called for blankets. In San An- 
tonio the morning had been warm and, all day, 
south to Laredo and on to Monterey, the heat had 
been oppressive. It was cold when I left Ka- 
nawha, but the chilly air had not followed me 
beyond New Orleans, and I had there packed into 
my trunk all my warm clothing and checked it 
through to Mexico. Passing westward through 
Louisiana and Texas, the mild air was delightful 
and I was comfortable in my thinnest summer 
garments. Thus dreaming of orange groves and 
sunny tropics I fell asleep. Now I was shivering 
with a deadly chill, and the thin keen air cut like 

45 



On the Mexican Highlands 

a sclmlter. I pulled on my overcoat, which I for- 
tunately still had with me, and slept fitfully till the 
day. 

We crossed, during the night, the first great 
mountain range which shuts out the inland plateau 
of central Mexico from the lowland plains stretch- 
ing eastward toward the Gulf and into Texas. 
We climbed many thousands of feet to Saltillo, 
where the mercury almost registered frost. Now 
we were descending the Inner slopes of the barrier 
mountains, passing near the battle field of Buena 
Vista, where Zachary Taylor smote Santa Anna 
and his dark-skinned horde, and gained the fame 
which made him President of the United States. 
We were entering that vast desolate inland plain 
which stretches so many hundreds of miles south 
to Acambaro, where we should begin to climb 
again yet higher ranges, crossing them at last — 
at an altitude of eleven thousand feet, — before we 
should finally descend into the high cool valley of 
Anahuac to the City of Mexico. 

About nine o'clock, we drew up at a wayside 
station for breakfast {almuerzo) , If I had 
known it, I might have obtained my desayuno 
coffee and roll at an earlier hour upon the train. 
We were now upon a wide-stretching sandy level. 
A cold mist hung over us. The scorching sun 
was trying to penetrate this barrier. A band of 

46 




THE DESOLATE PLAINS 



On to Mexico City 

Indians wrapped to their eyes in brilliant colored 
blankets of native make (zerapes), their high- 
peaked sombreros pulled over their eyes, with 
folded arms, silent as statues, stood watching us. 
I deliberately took their photograph. They did 
not smile or move. A group of Indian women 
sitting on the ground near these men were not so 
placid. They regarded the kodak as an evil mys- 
tery and hid their faces in their rebozos when I 
pointed my lens at them. The strange instrument 
smacked of witchcraft, and they would none of 
it. With rebozos still drawn, they got upon their 
feet and fled. 

In another hour the bright white sun dissipated 
the mists. The sky was blue and cloudless. The 
track ran straight, with rarely a curve, mile after 
mile into the South. The land lay flat as a table, 
an arid plain, shut in by towering, verdureless 
mountains, ranging along the horizon on east and 
west. All day we thus sped south through illimit- 
able wastes of sand, and sage brush and cactus, and 
a curious stunted palm, which lifted up a naked 
trunk with a single tuft of green at the very end. 
The landscape gave no sign of ever having been 
blessed by a drop of water, the barren prospect 
extending upon all sides in apparently unending 
monotony. 

Now and then we passed a small station made 

47 



On the Mexican Highlands 

of adoby brick. Now and then, a cluster of adoby 
dwellings centered about a low-roofed adoby 
church. At one place a half wild rancherro raced 
along beside the train on his hroncho, vainly try- 
ing to keep the pace and wildly waving his som- 
brero as he fell behind. At the stations were 
always women and children, and the ever silent 
men standing like statues. They never moved, 
they never spoke, they never smiled; they gazed 
at us with blank astonishment. As we came fur- 
ther and further south, the extreme aridness of 
the landscape began to lessen. Cattle began to 
appear upon the plain, adoby villages became more 
frequent, the swarthy dark brown population be- 
came more numerous. Toward midafternoon, the 
towers, the high walls, the red tiled roofs of a 
great church, a cathedral, and a town of magni- 
tude grew large before us. We drew up at a 
fine, commodious station, built of red sandstone. 
There, gathered to meet the train, were curious 
two-wheeled carts and antique carriages with high 
wheels, drawn by mules; many donkeys bearing 
burdens, some with men sitting upon their hips; 
a multitude of dark-faced Latins, men in high 
sombreros, the women with heads enveloped in 
rebozos or mantillas. We were at the station 
built a mile distant from the important city of San 
Louis Potosi, one of the great ore-smelting centers 

48 




AWAITING OUR TRAIN 



On to Mexico City 

of Mexico, and a city of sixty thousand inhabit- 
ants. In the station we dined, and I ate my first 
Mexican fruits, one a sort of custard apple, and 
all delicious. 

In the car with me sat a Mexican youth, who 
had evidently been studying and traveling in the 
States. He was dressed in the height of American 
fashion, and bore himself as a young gentleman 
of means. As he stepped from the train he was 
enveloped in the arms of another youth of about 
his own age. They clasped their right hands and 
patted each other on the small of the back with 
their left hands, and kissed each other's cheeks, 
and then he was similarly embraced by a big 
stately man, over six feet In height, with a long 
gray beard, who carried himself with great dig- 
nity. The two were dressed in full Mexican cos- 
tume, with tight-fitting pantaloones flaring at the 
bottom and laced with silver cording on the sides, 
short velvet jackets embroidered with gold lace, 
high felt hats with gold cords and tassels, and 
their monograms six Inches high In burnished 
metal fastened on the side of the crown. Several 
peons seized the young man's bags and American 
suit-case, and the party moved toward a six-mule 
carryall, set high on enormous wheels. The trav- 
eler was evidently the son of one of the great 
haciendados, whose estates lay perhaps fifty miles 
4 49 



On the Mexican Highlands 

away. Only grandees of the first magnitude travel 
by carnage in Mexico. 

Our colored porter, black as jet, was also in 
a happy mood. The first of his series of Mexican 
sweethearts had come to greet him, bringing him 
a basket of fruit. She was comely, with fine dark 
eyes, her long hair coiled beneath her purple 
rehozo. There is no color line in Mexico and 
Sam proved himself to be a great beau among the 
Mexican muchachas. 

Sitting in the smoking compartment of my car, 
during the morning, I found myself in company 
with three Mexican gentlemen who entered at 
Monterey. They could speak no English. My 
Spanish was limited. But as we sat there I be- 
came conscious of a most friendly interchange of 
sentiment between us. They were demonstratively 
gracious. One of them offered me a fine cigar, 
the other insisted that I accept of his cigarettos, 
and they would accept none of mine until I first 
took one from them. They sent the porter for 
beer, and insisted that I share with them. They 
even got out at one of the way stations and bought 
fragrant light skinned oranges, and pressed me to 
share the fruit. I could not speak to them, nor 
they to me, but I became aware that they were 
members of the Masonic order. I wore my Mas- 
ter Mason's badge. They displayed no outward 

SO 




MULES CARRYING CORN 



On to Mexico City- 
tokens, but their glances and friendliness revealed 
their fraternal sentiments. They treated me with 
distinguished courtesy through all the journey to 
Mexico City, and at last said good-bye with evi- 
dent regret. At a later time, I learned that a 
Mexican of the Masonic Fraternity wears no out- 
ward sign of his membership, owing to the hos- 
tility of the yet dominant Roman Church, while 
the Masonic bond is of peculiar strength by very 
reason of that animosity. 

After leaving San Louis Potosi, the great in- 
land plain which we had all day been traversing 
grew more and more broken. We came among 
small hills, with here and there deep ravines, and 
we began turning slightly toward the west and 
climbing by easy grades toward distant, towering 
mountains far upon the horizon to the south. 
Water now became more plentiful. We followed 
the course of a stream, wide, between high banks, 
where were long reaches of sand interspersed with 
well filled pools. There were adoby villages in 
increasing numbers, and here and there were little 
churches or chapels, each surmounted with a large 
cross. I counted more than a hundred of these 
chapels in the course of a few miles. It was as 
though the whole population had for centuries de- 
voted its time to building these shrines. Some 
were dilapidated and in ill repair, others looked 

51 



On the Mexican Highlands 

as though recently constructed. Each has its Ma- 
donna, and each Is venerated and cared for by 
the family who may have erected it. It was eight 
o'clock and dark when we reached Acambaro where 
a good supper awaited us in the commodious 
station. 

Just as the train was starting, I asked some 
questions of the American conductor and, after 
a little conversation with him, was surprised to 
find that he was a West Virginian from Kanawha. 
^'Senor Brooks," he said, who had grown up near 
^'Coal's Mouth," now St. Albans. He was de- 
lighted to learn from me of Charleston and the 
Kanawha Valley, and hoped some day to return 
and see the home of his childhood. He now loved 
Mexico. Its dry and sunny climate had given him 
life, when in the colder latitude of West Virginia 
he would have perished. 

During the night, while crossing the summit 
of the Sierra, at La Cima, — nearly eleven thousand 
feet above the sea, — it became intensely cold 
again, even colder than when we crossed the moun- 
tains near Saltillo. The chill again awoke me, 
when I discovered that we were rolling down into 
the valley of Anahuac toward the City of Mexico. 
We were soon below the mists and beneath a 
cloudless sky, yet I felt no undue heat, but rather, 
a quickening exhilaration in the pure, dry air. As 

52 




A CARGADORE BEARING VEGETABLES 



On to Mexico City 

we curved and twisted and descended the sharp 
grades, many vistas of exceeding beauty burst 
upon the eye. We were entering a wide valley 
of great fertility surrounded by lofty mountains, 
and to the far south, fifty miles away, the burn- 
ished domes of Popocatepetl and Ixtacciuhatl, 
lifted their ice crests into space, eighteen thousand 
feet above the level of the sea. Far beneath us 
glittered and glinted the waters of Lakes Tezcoco, 
Xochimilco and Chalco, once joined, but now sep- 
arated, by the rescued land on which stood Te- 
nochtitlan, the mighty capital of Montezuma, even 
yet to-day a city exceeding four hundred thousand 
souls (when Cortez conquered it, it is said to have 
held more than a million). Everywhere the eye 
rested upon fruitful land, tilled under irrigation, 
containing plantations of maguey, orchards of 
oranges and limes, and pomegranates, and groves 
of figs and olives — all forming a landscape where 
spring is perpetually enthroned. 

Along the roads, trains of pack mules and 
burros, heavily laden, were toiling toward the 
great city, and many footfarers were bearing upon 
their backs enormous packs, the weight resting on 
the shoulders, and held in place by a strap about 
the forehead. When the Aztecs were lords of 
Mexico and Montezuma ruled, the horse, the ox, 
the ass, the sheep were unknown upon the Amer- 

53 



On the Mexican Highlands 

lean continent. All burdens and all freight were 
then carried upon the backs and shoulders of the 
Indians, who from their forefathers had inherited 
the hardy muscles and the right to bear the traffic 
of the land. And from these ancestors the Indian 
cargadores of to-day have received the astonishing 
strength, enabling them to bear these great loads 
with apparent ease; the Indian, with his jog-trot 
gait, carrying a hundred pounds upon his back a 
distance of fifty miles a day. A large part of 
the fruit, vegetables and tropical products dis- 
played each day in the markets of the city are 
thus brought up from distant lowland plantations 
upon the backs of men. As we approached the 
city, nearer and nearer, the highways we ran beside 
or cut across were filled more and more with these 
pack trains and cargadores, and with men and 
women faring cityward. 

We finally drew into a large newly-built sta- 
tion of white sandstone. Pandemonium reigned 
upon the platform alongside which we stopped. 
Men were embracing each other, slapping each 
other's backs and kissing either cheek. Women 
flew into each other's arms and children kissed 
their elders' hands. We passed along through 
wide gateways and into a paved semicircular court- 
yard, where were drawn up carriages with bands 
of yellow or red or blue across the door. Those 

S4 



On to Mexico City 

with yellow bands are cheap and dirty, those 
with blue bands mean a double fare and those 
with red bands are clean and make a reasonable 
charge, all of which is regulated by the Federal 
government. I entered one of the red-banded 
vehicles. The driver called two cargadores, who 
seized my steamer trunks, loaded them on their 
backs and ran along beside us. The horses started 
on a half gallop and when we reached the hotel, 
the cargadores, with the trunks upon their backs 
were there as well, less out of breath than the 
panting team, and each was gratified with a Mex- 
ican quarter for his pay (equal to an American 
dime), while my cocker o swore in profuse Spanish 
because I did not pay him five times his legal fare. 
I was come to the one-time palace of the Em- 
peror Iturbide, and was welcomed by the Amer- 
ican speaking Jdministrador, in softly accented 
Louisianian speech. 



55 



First Impressions of Mexico City 

Hotel Iturbide, 

November 20th. 

When I awoke this morning, the bare stone 
walls of my chamber, the stone-paved floor, the 
thin morning air drifting in through the wide-open 
casements, all combined to give me that sensation 
of nipping chilliness, which may perhaps only be 
met In altitudes as high as these. I am a mile 
and a quarter In the air above the city of Charles- 
ton-Kanawha, a mile and half above the city of 
New York. By the time I had made my hasty 
toilet, my fingers were numb with the cold. I put 
on my winter clothes, which I had brought with 
me for use when returning to Virginia in January. 
I also put on my overcoat. 

Leaving my vault-like chamber, I passed along 
the stone-flagged hallways, down the stone flights 
of stairs, Into the stone-paved court, passed out 
through the narrow porter's door and found my- 
self among the footfarers on the Calle de San 
Francisco. It was early. The street was still in 

S6 




A SNAP-SHOT FOR A CENTAVO 




CARGADORES TOTING CASKS 



First Impressions of Mexico City 

the morning shadows. The passers-by, whom I 
met, were warmly wrapped up. The rebozos of 
the women were wound about the head and mouth. 
The zerapes of the men were held closely about 
the shoulders and covered the lower face. Over- 
coats were everywhere In evidence, and scarfs 
shielded the mouths of the Frenchly uniformed 
police. All these were precautions against the 
dread pneumonia, the most feared and fatal ail- 
ment of Mexico. 

I entered a restaurant kept by an Irishman 
speaking with a Limerick brogue, but calling him- 
self a citizen of the United States. I came Into a 
high, square room with stone walls, stone floor, 
windows without glass, with many little tables 
accommodating three and four. Here were a few 
Americans with their hats off, and many Mex- 
icans with their hats on. A dish of strawberries 
was my first course, the berries not very large, a 
pale pink In color, very faint In flavor. These are 
gathered every day in the year from the gardens 
In the neighborhood of the city. My coffee was 
con leche (with milk). I asked for rolls and a 
couple of blanqiiillos (eggs) passados por agiia 
(passed through the water, I. e. soft boiled). For 
a tip, cinco centavos (five cents in Mexican, equal 
to two cents In United States) was regarded as 
liberal by the Indian waiter. Upon leaving the 

57 



On the Mexican Highlands 

wide entrance, I found the shadows fled and the 
sunshine flooding its white rays upon the street. 

Leaving my overcoat in the hotel, I took my 
way toward the lovely Alameda Park, where, 
choosing a seat beneath a splendid cypress, I sat 
in the delicious sunshine and watched the moving 
crowds. Many droves of mules, laden with pro- 
ducts of the soil, were coming into the city. Later 
in the day, these same carriers of freight go out 
again, laden with merchandise for distribution to 
all the cities and villages of the mountain hinter- 
lands. 

An Indian mother passes by, her baby caught 
in the folds of her rebozo. I toss her a centavo, 
and she allows me to kodak herself and child. 

A handsome man riding a fine, black horse, 
pauses a moment at the curb. He is gratified 
that I should admire the splendid animal. He 
reins him in, and I capture a view. 

A rancherro in all the gaudy splendor of gilt 
braid, silver-laced pantaloones, and costly saddle, 
behung with ornaments of trailing angora goat's 
wool, draws near me. He permits me to photo- 
graph his fine sorrel horse, but will never allow 
me to take himself face to face. He halts, that 
his animal may be admired by the passing throngs ; 
he chats with friends who linger by his side, but 
whenever I try to catch his face he wheels about. 

58 




• • 

S i 


m k% I, 

m 





First Impressions of Mexico City 

The dulce sellers bearing sweets In trays upon 
their heads; the flower venders carrying baskets 
piled high, such roses as only veritable trees may 
yield, come also within the vision of my kodak. 

Later, I take my way to the Plaza Grande, 
fronting the Cathedral, and there again catch 
glimpses of the life of the city. Here are men 
bearing upon their shoulders casks, apparently 
filled, bales of garden produce, crates of chickens. 
Every sort of portable thing is here borne upon 
the human back. Now and then one or another 
seats himself upon the stone and Iron benches and 
engages in gossip. Of these, also, my camera 
makes note. 

Later in the morning, I saunter through many 
streets. Inquiring my way to one of the great 
markets. Here I linger, going about from stall 
to stall and taking a picture as my fancy urges. 
A policeman, uniformed like a Paris gendarme, 
eyes me curiously, comprehends the power of my 
camera, and comes up to me smiling. He drives 
back the crowd, calls up his companion-in-arms 
and stands at attention, begging me to send him 
a copy of the picture. A group of errand boys, 
who carry large flat baskets, and will take any- 
thing home you buy, attracted by the mysterious 
black box, line up and motion that their pictures 
also be taken. The Instantaneous movement of 

59 



On the Mexican Highlands 

the shutter strikes them with wonder, when, throw- 
ing a few centavos among them, I catch them now 
struggling for the coin. I have become the center 
of attraction. The swarming street crowd crushes 
about me, all eager to face the magic instrument, 
till I am fain to call upon my policemen friends 
to fend them off. 

Standing there, joking with my guardians and 
keeping the good will of the increasing mob, I 
am accosted by a tall, thin-bearded gentleman in 
rusty though once fashionable black. He speaks 
to me in French. He is from Paris, he says; and 
Ah! have I really been there in Paris! Tres jolie 
Paris/ He also enjoys coming to the markets, 
and wandering among the stalls, and watching the 
people, and noting their habits and their ways. 
He guides me about among the different sections, 
commenting on the fruits and vegetables and 
wares. When we have spent an interesting hour, 
he invites me to share a bottle of French wine, 
a delicious claret, and then, lifting his hat, bids 
me adieu and is lost forever among the swarming 
multitudes. 

There is so much to see in this ancient city, 
so much to feel! It is so filled with historical 
romance! As I wander about it, my mind and 
imagination are continually going back to the 
pages of Prescott and Arthur Helps, whose his- 

60 




A RANCHERRO DUDE 



First Impressions of Mexico City 

tories of Spanish Invasion and conquest I used to 
pore over when a boy, and to the tragedies which 
Rider Haggard and Lew Wallace so graphically 
portray. I scarcely dare take up my pen, so afraid 
am I of retelling what you already know. I am 
ever seeing the house tops swarming with the dark 
hosts of Montezuma, hurling the rocks and rain- 
ing the arrows upon the steel-clad ranks of Cortez 
and his Christian bandits as they fight for life 
and for dominion In these very streets below. 

I stood, this morning, within the splendid ca- 
thedral, built upon the very spot where once tow- 
ered the gigantic pyramid on whose summit the 
Aztec priests sacrificed their human victims to their 
gods, while down In the dungeons beneath my feet, 
the Holy Inquisition, a few years later, had also 
tortured men to their death, human victims sacri- 
ficed to the glory of the Roman Church. An Az- 
tec pagan, a Spanish Christian, both sped the soul 
to Paradise through blood and pain, and I won- 
dered, as I watched an Indian mother kneel In 
humble penitence before an effigy of the Virgin, 
and fix a lighted taper upon the altar before the 
shrine, whether she, too, felt clustering about her, 
in the sombre shadows of the semi-twilight, mem- 
ories of these tragedies which have so oppressed 
her race. 

On these pavements, also, I review in fancy 

6i 



On the Mexican Highlands 

the serried regiments of France and Austria mar- 
shaled In the attempt to thrust Maximlllian upon 
a cis-Athntic Imperial throne. In this day, one 
recalls almost with Incredulity the Insolence of this 
conspiracy by European Monarchy to steal a 
march on Western liberty, when it was thought 
that democracy was forever smitten to the death 
by civil war. But the bold scheme was done to 
death by Juarez, the Aztec, without Sheridan's 
having to come further south than the Rio Grande. 

All these pictures of the past, and many more, 
crowd thick upon me as I walk the streets and 
avenues of this now splendid modern city, 

I have also tried to see what I could of the 
churches, — the more important of them — ^which 
here abound, but my brain is all in a whirl, and 
saints and Madonnas troop by me In confused and 
Interminable train. 

Ever since Cortez roasted Guatemozln upon a 
bed of coals, to hasten his conversion to the Ro- 
man faith and quicken his memory as to the loca- 
tion of Montezuma's hidden treasure, the Spanish 
conquerors have been building churches, shrines 
and chapels to the glory of the Virgin, the salva- 
tion of their own souls and the profit of their pri- 
vate purse. Whenever a Spaniard got In a tight 
place, he vowed a church, a chapel or a shrine to 
the Virgin or a saint. If luck was with him, he 

62 



First Impressions of Mexico City 

hadn't the nerve to back down, but made some 
show of keeping his vow and, the work once 
started, there were enough other vowing sinners 
to push the job along. Mexican genius has found 
its highest expression in its many and beautiful 
churches, and perhaps it has been a good thing 
for genius that so many sinners have been ready 
to gamble on a vow. 

When Juarez shot Maximilian he also smote 
the Roman Church. The Archbishop of Mexico, 
and the church of which he was virtual primate, 
had backed the Austrian Invader. Even Pope 
Pius IX had shed benedictions on the plot. When 
the Republic crushed the conspirators, the Roman 
Church was at once deprived of all visible power. 
Every foot of land, every church edifice, every 
monastery, every convent the church owned in all 
Mexico was confiscated by the Republic. The 
lands and many buildings were sold and the money 
put In the National Treasury. Monks and nuns 
were banished. Priests were prohibited from 
wearing any but ordinary garb. The Roman 
Church was forbidden ever again to own a rod of 
stone or a foot of land. 

So now it Is, that the priest wears a "bee-gum" 
hat and Glengarry coat, and the state takes what- 
ever church-edifices It wants for public use. The 
church of San Augustin is a public library. Many 

63 



On the Mexican Highlands 

churches have been converted into schools. Others 
have been pulled down, and modern buildings 
erected in their stead. The cloisters and chapel 
of the monastery of the Franciscans are leased to 
laymen, and have become the hotel Jardin. What 
churches the Republic did not need to use, it has 
been willing to rent to the Roman hierarchy for 
the religious uses of the people. So many have 
been these edifices that, despite the government's 
appropriations and private occupations, there yet 
remain church buildings innumerable where the 
pious may worship and the priesthood celebrate 
the mass. But the Roman hierarchy has no longer 
the wealth and will to keep these buildings in re- 
pair and in all of those I visited there was much 
dilapidation. 

While it is true that the stern laws of the 
Republic debar the Roman Church from owning 
land, yet, it is said, this law is now evaded 
by a system of suhrosa trusteeships, whereby se- 
cret trustees already hold vast accumulations of 
land and money to its use. And although the 
church cannot go into court to enforce the trust, 
yet the threat of dire pains in Purgatory is seem- 
ingly so effective that there is said to have been 
extraordinary little loss by stealing. The promise 
of easy passage to Paradise also makes easy the 
evasion of human law. 

64 




LA CASA DE AZULEJOS, NOW JOCKEY CLUB 



VI 

Vivid Characteristics of Mexican Life 

Hotel Iturbide, Mexico, 

November 22a. 

This limpid atmosphere, this vivifying sun, — 
how they redden the blood and exhilarate the 
spirit! This is a sunshine which never brings the 
sweat. But yet, however hot the sun may be, 
it is cold in the shadow, and at this I am perpetu- 
ally surprised. 

The custom of the hotels in this Latin land 
Is to let rooms upon the *^European" plan, leaving 
the guest free to dine in the separate cafe of the 
hotel itself, or to take his meals wherever he may 
choose among the city's multitude of lunch rooms 
and restaurants. Thus I may take my desayuno 
in an "American'' restaurant, where the dishes are 
of the American type, and my almuerzo, the mid- 
morning meal, in an Italian restaurant where the 
dishes of sunny Italy are served; while for my 
comida, I stroll through a narrow doorway be- 
tween sky blue pillars, and enter a long, stone- 
5 65 



On the Mexican Highlands 

flagged chamber, where neat tables are set about 
and where the Creole French of Louisiana Is the 
speech of the proprietor. Here are served the 
most delicious meals I have yet discovered. If 
you want fish, a swarthy Indian waiter presents 
before you a large silver salver on which are ar- 
ranged different sorts of fish fresh from the sea, 
for these are daily received in the city. Or, per- 
haps, you desire game, when a tray upon which 
are spread ducks and snipe and plover, the heads 
and wings yet feathered, is presented to you. Or 
a platter of beefsteaks, chops and cutlets is held 
before you. From these you select what you may 
wish. If you like, you may accompany the waiter 
who hands your choice to the cook, and you may 
stand and see the fish or duck or chop done to a 
turn, as you shall approve, upon the fire before 
your eyes. You are asked to take nothing for 
granted, but having ascertained to your own satis- 
faction that the food is fresh, you may verify Its 
preparation, and eat it contentedly without mis- 
giving. In this autumn season, flocks of ducks 
come to spend their winters upon the lakes sur- 
rounding the city. At a cost of thirty cents, our 
money, you may have a delicious broiled teal with 
fresh peas and lettuce, and as much fragrant cof- 
fee as you will drink. The food is cheap, whole- 
some and abundant. And what is time to a cook 

66 




PLEASED WITH MY CAMERA 



Vivid Characteristics of Mexican Life 

whose wages may be ten or fifteen centavos a day, 
although his skill be of the greatest ! 

The city is full of fine big shops whose large 
windows present lavish displays of sumptuous fab- 
rics. There is great wealth in Mexico. There is 
also abject poverty. The income of the rich comes 
to them without toil from their vast estates, often 
inherited in direct descent from the Royal Grants 
of Ferdinand and Isabella to the Conquestadores 
of Cortez, when the fruitful lands of the con- 
quered Aztecs were parceled out among the 
hungry Spanish compaheros of the Conqueror. 
Some of these farms or haciendas, as they are 
called, contain as many as a million acres. 

Mexico is to all intents and purposes a free 
trade country, and the fabrics and goods of Eu- 
rope mostly supply the needs and fancies of the 
Mexicans. The dry goods stores are in the hands 
of the French, with here and there a Spaniard 
from old Spain; the drug stores are kept by Ger- 
mans, who all speak fluent Spanish, and the cheap 
cutlery and hardware are generally of German 
make. The wholesale and retail grocers have 
been Spaniards, but this trade is now drifting to 
the Americans. There are some fine jewelry 
stores, and gems and gold work are displayed in 
their windows calculated to dazzle even an Amer- 
ican. The Mexican delights in jewels, and men 

67 




PLEASED WITH MY CAMERA 



Vivid Characteristics of Mexican Life 

whose wages may be ten or fifteen centavos a day, 
although his skill be of the greatest ! 

The city is full of fine big shops whose large 
windows present lavish displays of sumptuous fab- 
rics. There is great wealth in Mexico. There is 
also abject poverty. The income of the rich comes 
to them without toil from their vast estates, often 
inherited in direct descent from the Royal Grants 
of Ferdinand and Isabella to the Conquestadores 
of Cortez, when the fruitful lands of the con- 
quered Aztecs were parceled out among the 
hungry Spanish compaheros of the Conqueror. 
Some of these farms or haciendas, as they are 
called, contain as many as a million acres. 

Mexico is to all intents and purposes a free 
trade country, and the fabrics and goods of Eu- 
rope mostly supply the needs and fancies of the 
Mexicans. The dry goods stores are in the hands 
of the French, with here and there a Spaniard 
from old Spain; the drug stores are kept by Ger- 
mans, who all speak fluent Spanish, and the cheap 
cutlery and hardware are generally of German 
make. The wholesale and retail grocers have 
been Spaniards, but this trade is noY7 drifting to 
the Americans. There are some fine jewelry 
stores, and gems and gold work are displayed in 
their windows calculated to dazzle even an Amer- 
ican. The Mexican delights in jewels, and men 

67 



On the Mexican Highlands 

and women love to have their fingers ablaze with 
sparkling diamonds, and their fronts behung with 
many chains of gold. And opals ! Everyone will 
sell you opals ! 

In leather work, the Mexican is a master art- 
ist. He has inherited the art from the clever 
artificers among the ancient Moors. Coats and 
pantaloons (I use purposely the word pantaloons) 
and hats are made of leather, soft, light and elastic 
as woven fibre. And as for saddles and bridles, 
all the accoutrements of the cahallero are here 
made more sumptuously than anywhere in all the 
world. 

The shops are opened early in the morning 
and remain open until noon, when most of them 
are closed until three o'clock, while the clerks are 
allowed to take their siesta, the midday rest. 
Then in the cool hours of the evening they stay 
open until late. 

Over on one side of a small park, under the 
projecting loggia of a long, low building, I no- 
ticed, to-day, a dozen or more little tables, by each 
of which sat a dignified, solemn-looking man. 
Some were waiting for customers, others were 
writing at the dictation of their clients; several 
were evidently composing love letters for the shy, 
brown muchachas who whispered to them. Of 
the thirteen millions constituting the population of 

68 




I;; 



Vivid Characteristics of Mexican Life 

the Mexican Republic, less than two millions can 
read and write. Hence it Is, that this profession 
of scribe is one of influence and profit. 

I have once more visited the famous cathedral 
which faces the Plaza Grande. From the north 
tower of it, to the top of which I climbed by a 
wonderful convoluted staircase, ninety-two spiral 
steps without a core, I gained a view of the city. 
North and south and east and west it spread out 
several miles in extent. It lies beneath the view, 
a city of flat roofs, covering structures rarely more 
than two stories high, of stone and sun-dried brick, 
and painted sky blue, pink and yellow, or else 
remaining as white and clean as when first built, 
who knows how many hundreds of years ago? 
For here are no chimneys, no smoke and no soot ! 
To the south I could descry the glistening surface 
of Lake Tezcoco, and to the west, at a greater dis- 
tance. Lakes Chalco and Xochomilco. Never a 
cloud flecked the dark blue dome of the sky. 
Only, overhead, I noted one burst of refulgent 
whiteness. It was with difiiculty that I could com- 
pel my comprehension to grasp the fact that this 
was nothing less than the snow summit of mighty 
Popocatepetl, so distant that tree and earth and 
rock along its base, even in this pellucid atmos- 
phere, were hid in perpetual haze. 

It is said that peoples differ from one another 

69 



On the Mexican Highlands 

not merely in color, in form and in manners, but 
equally so in their peculiar and individual odors. 
The Chinese are said to find the European offens- 
ive to their olfactory nerves because he smells so 
much like a sheep. The Englishman vows the 
Italian reeks with the scent of garlic. The French- 
man declares the German unpleasant because his 
presence suggests the fumes of beer. Just so, have 
I been told that the great cities of the world may 
be distinguished by their odors. Paris is said to 
exhale absinthe. London is said to smell of ale 
and stale tobacco, and Mexico City, I think, may 
be said to be enwrapped with the scent of pulque 
{Pool-Kay) . '^Pulque, blessed pulque/' says the 
Mexican ! Pulque, the great national drink of the 
ancient Aztec, which has been readily adopted by 
the Spanish conqueror, and which is to-day the 
favorite intoxicating beverage of every bibulating 
Mexican. At the railway stations, as we de- 
scended into the great valley wherein Mexico City 
lies, Indian women handed up little brown pitchers 
of pulque, fresh pulque new tapped. Sweet and 
cool and delicious it was, as mild as lemonade (in 
this unfermented condition it is called agua m'lel, 
honey water). The thirsty passengers reached 
out of the car windows and gladly paid the cinco 
centavos (five cents) and drank it at leisure as the 
train rolled on. Through miles and miles we 

70 




A PULQUE PEDDLER 



Vivid Characteristics of Mexican Life 

traversed plantations of the maguey plant from 
which the pulque is extracted. For pulque is merely 
the sap of the maguey or "century plant," which 
accumulates at the base of the flower stalk, just be- 
fore it begins to shoot up. The pulque-gd^thcrer 
thrusts a long, hollow reed into the stalk, sucks it 
full to the mouth, using the tongue for a stopper, 
and then blows it into a pigskin sack which he 
carries on his back. When the pigskin is full of 
juice, it is emptied into a tub, and when the tub 
is filled with liquor it is poured into a cask, and 
the cask is shipped to the nearest market. Itin- 
erant peddlars tramp through the towns and vil- 
lages, bearing a pigskin of pulque on their shoul- 
ders and selling drinks to whosoever is thirsty and 
may have the uno centavo (one cent) to pay for 
it. When fresh, the drink is delightful and innoc- 
uous. But when the liquid has begun to ferment, 
it is said to generate narcotic qualities which make 
It the finest thing for a steady, long-continuing and 
thorough-going drunk which Providence has yet 
put within the reach of man. Thousands of gal- 
lons of pulque are consumed In Mexico City every 
twenty-four hours, and the government has en- 
acted stringent laws providing against the sale of 
pulque which shall be more than twenty-four hours 
old. The older It grows the greater the drunk, 
and the less you need drink to become intoxicated, 

71 



On the Mexican Highlands 

hence, it Is the aim of every thirsty Mexican to 
procure the oldest pulque he can get. In every 
pulque shop, where only the mild, sweet agua miel, 
fresh and Innocuous, Is supposed to be sold, 
there Is, as a matter of fact, always on hand a well 
fermented supply, a few nips of which will knock 
out the most confirmed drinker almost as soon as 
he can swallow It. 

I was passing a pulque shop this afternoon 
when I noticed a tall, brawny Indian coming out. 
He walked steadily and soberly half way across the 
street, when all of a sudden the fermented brew 
within him took effect and he doubled up like a 
jackknife, then and there. Two men thereupon 
came out of the self same doorway, picked him 
up head and heels, and I saw them sling him, like 
a sack of meal. Into the far corner of the shop, 
there to lie, perhaps twenty-four hours, till he 
would come out of his narcotic stupor. 

Riding out to the shrine of Guadeloupe the 
other afternoon, I passed many Indians leaving 
the city for their homes. Some were bearing bur- 
dens upon their backs, some were driving donkeys 
loaded with goods. Upon the back of one donkey 
was tied a pulque drunkard. His legs were tied 
about the donkey's neck and his body was lashed 
fast to the donkey's back. His eyes and mouth 
were open. His head wagged from side to side 

72 




A FRIEND OF MY KODAK 




DULCE VENDER 



Vivid Characteristics of Mexican Life 

with the burro's trot. He was apparently dead. 
He had swallowed too much fermented pulque. 
His companeros were taking him home to save him 
from the city jail. 

The Mexicans have a legend about the origin 
of their pulque. It runs thus : One of their mighty 
emperors, long before the days of Montezuma's 
rule, when on a war raid to the south, lost his 
heart to the daughter of a conquered chief and 
brought her back to Tenochtitlan as his bride. 
Her name was Xochitl and she gained extraordi- 
nary power over her lord, brewing with her fair, 
brown hands a drink for which he acquired a pro- 
digious thirst. He never could imbibe enough and, 
when tanked full, contentedly resigned to her the 
right to rule. Other Aztec ladies perceiving its 
soothing soporific influence upon the emperor, ac- 
quired the secret of its make and secured domestic 
peace by also administering it to their lords. Thus 
pulque became the drink adored by every Aztec. 
The acquisitive Spaniard soon "caught on" and 
has never yet let go. 

The one redeeming feature about the pulque 
is that he who gets drunk on it becomes torpid and 
IS incapable of fight. Hence, while it is so widely 
drunk, there comes little violence from those who 
drink it. 

But not so IS it with mescal, a brandy distilled 

73 



On the Mexican Highlands 

from the lower leaves and roasted roots of the 
maguey plant. It is the more high priced and 
less generally tasted liquor. Men who drink it 
become mad and, when filled with it, sharpen their 
long knives and start to get even with some real 
or imaginary foe. Fortunately, mescal has few 
persistent patrons. It is pulque, the soporific 
pulque that is the honored and national beverage 
of the Mexican. 



74 



VII 

A Mexican Bullfight 

Mexico City, 
Sunday^ No'vember 24th. 

A FEELING first of disgust and then of anger 
came over me this afternoon. I was sitting right 
between two pretty Spanish women, young and 
comely. One of them as she came in was greeted 
by the name Hermosa Paracita (beautiful little 
parrot), by eight or ten sprucely dressed young 
Spaniards just back of me. The spectators with 
ten thousand vociferous throats had just been 
cheering a picador. He had done a valiant deed. 
He had ridden his blindfolded horse around the 
ring twice, lifting his cap to the cheering multi- 
tude. He was applauded because he had managed 
to have the belly of his horse so skillfully ripped 
open by the maddened black bull, that all Its vitals 
and entrails were dragging on the ground while he 
rode It, under the stimulus of his cruel spurs and 
wicked bit, twice around the ring before it fell, 
to be dragged out, dying, by mules, gaily-capari- 

75 



On the Mexican Highlands 

soned in trappings of red and gold, tugging at its 
heels! Paracita clapped her pretty bejeweled 
hands and cried ''bravo F^ And so did the scores 
of other pretty women; women on the reserved 
seats, elegant ladies and pretty children in the 
high-priced boxes on the upper tiers! The howl- 
ing mob of thousands also applauded the gallant 
picador! Would he be equally fortunate and 
clever and succeed In having the next horse ripped 
open so completely, all at one thrust of the bull's 
horns? Quien sahef 

The city of four hundred thousand inhabitants, 
capital of the Mexican Republic, had been pro- 
foundly stirred all the week over the arrival from 
Spain of the renowned Manzanlllo and his band 
of toreadors (bullfighters). Their first appear- 
ance would be the opening event of the bullfight- 
ing season. 

Manzanlllo, the most renowned Toreador of 
old Spain! And bulls, six of them, of the most 
famous strains of Mexico and of Andalusia ! 
Senor LImantour, Secretary of State for Mexico, 
spoken of as the successor to President Diaz, had 
just delighted the jeunesse doree by publicly an- 
nouncing his acceptance of the honor of the Presi- 
dency of the newly founded "Bullfighting Club." 
Spanish society and the Sociadad Espanola had 
publicly serenaded Don Manzanlllo at his hotel ! 

76 




SETTING A BANDERILLA 



A Mexican Bullfight 

A dinner would be given in his honor after the 
event! Men and women were selling tickets on 
the streets. Reserved tickets at five dollars each, 
could only be obtained at certain cigar stores. 
The rush would be so great that, to secure a ticket 
at all, one must buy early. I secured mine on 
Thursday, and was none too soon. The spectacle 
would come off Sunday afternoon at three o'clock, 
by which hour all the churches would have finished 
their services, and the ladies would have had their 
almuerzo, and time to put on afternoon costume. 

By noon the drift of all the street crowds was 
toward the bull ring, a mile or two out near the 
northwest border of the city. All street cars were 
packed and extra cars were running; even all car- 
riages and cabs were taken, and the cabmen com- 
manded double prices. I had retained a carriage 
the day before. At the restaurant I could scarcely 
get a bite, the waiters and cooks were so eager 
to get through and escape, even for a single peep 
at the spectacle. As I drove out, young ladles 
were standing in groups at the gateways of many 
fashionable residences waiting for their carriages 
to take them to the ring. As I approached the 
arena, the throngs upon the streets and sidewalks 
blocked the way. 

Hundreds of Indians and Mexicans, mostly 
women, had set up temporary eating stands along 

77 



On the Mexican Highlands 

the roadside. Fruit, tortillas, steaming broth and 
meat roasting over fires, tempted the hungry. 
These stands would feed a multitude. It was early, 
but the city fire department was already on hand 
with apparatus to extinguish any possible blaze 
among the wooden tiers of seats. A battalion of 
mounted police sat on their blood-bay horses at in- 
tervals along the road, their gaudy blue and gold 
uniforms setting off effectively their dark brown 
skins. We entered a large gateway, gave up half 
of our tickets, and then passed in to a broad flight 
of steps. We ascended to the tiers of seats and 
chose good places. Presently, two companies of 
infantry with set bayonets also entered and took 
up their positions. Often the mob becomes so mad 
with blood-lust, that bayonets are needed to keep 
order, sometimes also bullets. 

It was an hour before the set time, but none 
too early. The crowds, all well dressed on this 
side, every one of whom had paid five dollars for 
a ticket, kept pouring in. Across on the other 
side swarmed the cheap mob. Behind me was a 
row of young Spaniards. They stood up and 
called nicknames to all their friends who entered 
within reach of their vision. They cheered every 
pretty well dressed woman. They howled like 
mad when the band came in, they fairly burst 
themselves when, at last, Manzanillo, the toreador, 

78 




TEASING EL TORO 



A Mexican Bullfight 

the matadoreSy picadores, the valiant gold-laced 
company of bullfighters, entered and marched 
around the ring. 

Manzanillo sat on a superb Andalusian charger 
which pranced and threw up his forefeet as though 
conscious of the illustrious character of his master. 
Then Manzanillo dismounted and took his place, 
the picadores stationed their horses on either side 
and pulled over their eyes the bandages to blind- 
fold them, others carrying big gold-embroidered 
red shawls, stood all attention, the band struck up, 
the door opposite me was thrown open and a hand- 
some, black-brown bull trotted in. As he passed 
the gate he received his first attention. Two ro- 
settes of scarlet and gold ribbons were hooked 
into his shoulders, with steel teeth, enough to irri- 
tate him just a little. He stood there amazed. 
The crowd cheered him. A man in gold lace 
promptly flaunted a red shawl in his face. He 
charged it. The man stepped lightly aside and 
bowed to the audience, who cheered vociferously. 
"Bravo! Well done!" Then one of the blind- 
folded horses was spurred toward the bull. The 
bull was dazed and angry. He charged right at 
the horseman. The horseman lowered his spear 
and caught the bull in the shoulder. The bull 
flinched to one side. The audience cheered the 
picador y but the bull dexterously turning, charged 

79 



On the Mexican Highlands 

the horse on the other side, and, before the poor 
beast could be turned, drove his sharp horns into 
his abdomen, ripped it up and upset the rider and 
horse in a cloud of dust. The audience now 
cheered the bull. A dozen men rushed to the 
rescue and dragged the picador away. The horse 
lay there and the bull charged it again, and again 
ripped out more entrails. The audience cheered 
the bull, and the bull, encouraged by the applause, 
took another turn at the dying horse. Just then 
a dexterous footman slung the red sheet in the 
bull's face and he turned to chase it. But all in 
vain! Charge the red vision all he would, he 
never caught anything but thin air! He could 
never catch the man. 

Then the bull saw another horse blindly sidling 
towards him, for though blindfolded, the old 
horse could yet smell the bull and the blood, and 
only went forward under the pressure of sav- 
age spur and bit. The bull stood gazing at 
the horse and rider a moment, then he charged 
right at them with head down. He caught the 
horse in the belly and ripped out its entrails, which 
dragged on the ground, while the brave picador 
continued to ride it about, and sought yet again to 
engage the attention of the bull. 

But the bull was now tired. He thought of 
his mountain pastures and the sweet, long grass 

80 




THE GARDENS OF CHAPULTEPEC 



A Mexican Bullfight 

of the uplands. He would go home. He would 
fight no more. He wanted to get out, he wanted 
badly to get out. The now hissing mob scared 
him worse than when they cheered. He ran about 
the ring trying all the locked doors. He could n't 
force them. Then he tried to climb over the high 
wall, to jump over anyway. He was frantic with 
pathetic panic. But shouting men stood round the 
parapet and clubbed him over the head. So he 
gave up and returned to the center of the ring, 
panting, his tongue hanging out, foam dripping 
from his jaws. He was altogether winded. 

Now was Manzanillo's opportunity. He car- 
ried a small purple gold-fringed scarf over his left 
arm, and his long, straight naked sword in his 
right hand. He stood directly In front of the bull 
He caught Its eye. He waved the purple banner. 
Almost Imperceptibly he approached. The bull 
stood staring at him, legs wide apart, sides pant- 
ing, tall lashing, head down, tired but ready to 
charge. Then, quick as lightning, Manzanlllo 
stepped up to the bull, straight In front of him, 
and reaching out at arm's length drove the sword 
to the very hilt right down between the shoulder 
blades. It was a mortal stroke, a wonderful 
thrust, perfect, precise, fatal. Only a master of 
his craft could do just such a perfectly exact act. 
And as quick as lightning did Manzanlllo step 
6 8l 



On the Mexican Highlands 

aside, fold his arms and stand motionless, not ten 
feet from the bull, to watch him die. He gave 
only one sweeping bow to the audience. The 
Spaniard is a connoisseur in all the delicate and 
subtle masterstrokes in this duel of man and beast. 
Manzanillo had sustained his reputation as the 
greatest living bullfighter of old Spain. The 
nerve, the agility, the lightning-like act — too 
quick for human eye to follow — the perfect judg- 
ment of time and distance and force, all these he 
had now displayed. The vast audience broke out 
into one simultaneous **Bravo," rose to its feet and 
then, like the matador, stood silent and breathless 
to watch the bull die, — to see the hot blood pour 
from mouth and nostrils, the sturdy thighs and 
shoulders shake, the powerful knees bend. The 
nose sank to the dust, the knees trembled, the bull 
rolled in the sand, quite dead. Manzanillo drew 
out his reeking sword. Again he bowed to the 
vast multitude, and no human being ever received 
a more overwhelming ovation than did he. 
Flowers were thrown him in heaps. Sometimes 
women even take off their jewels and throw them, 
and kiss the hero when they later meet him on the 
street. So great is the joy of the blood-lust! So 
has the frenzy of the Roman arena descended to 
some of Rome's degenerate sons. Mules in gay 
red and gold trappings now dragged out the bull 

82 




MANZANILLO'S FATAL THRUST 



A Mexican Bullfight 

as they had the horse. There would be cheap 
stews for the multitude In the city to-night. 

The next bull was jet-black, big, sturdy, fero- 
cious. He scorned to charge or gore a blind- 
folded horse, but he chased a man wherever in 
sight. Such a bull Is according to the Spanish 
heart! The audience cheered him wildly. He 
ripped up three or four horses just because he had 
to. In order to get at the man on their backs. One 
of the horses had been ripped up by the first bull, 
but his dusty entrails had been put back, the rent 
sewn up, and under cruel spur and bit he had been 
presented to the second bull to be again splendidly 
and finally ripped wide open, ridden around the 
ring by his bowing rider, bloody entrails dragging 
in the dust, and applauded to his death by the 
blood-hungry multitude! The second bull was 
game! The banderillas were placed with danger 
and difficulty. These are two berlbboned sticks 
tipped with steel gaffs that are jabbed Into the 
bull's shoulders, adding to the Irritation of the 
rosettes, and Increasing his desire for revenge. In 
the first bull they were perfectly planted and three 
pairs set In. In the second only one was got In at 
first, then a pair, then one again. Each setting 
of the banderillas Is a dangerous feat! The bull 
must be approached from the front. Just as they 
are stuck into the maddened animal, the banderil- 

83 



On the Mexican Highlands 

lador must step aside. He must be quick, very 
quick, as quick as the toreador in planting his fatal 
sword thrust. And not infrequently the handeril- 
lador gets tossed, and perhaps gored and killed 
by the bull. Hence the act, well done, receives 
deafening applause. Despite his fierce courage, 
this splendid black bull also met at last his inevit- 
able fate, beneath the perfectly skillful thrust of 
Manzanillo. 

The third bull was the biggest and oldest yet. 
Horses were ripped up by him in exciting succes- 
sion and one picador was caught under his fallen 
horse and badly bruised. Nor was it so easy to 
kill this bull. The matador lost a trifle of his 
nerve. The sword only went in half way. It 
took the bull some time to bleed internally and 
die. With the sword-hilt waving between his 
shoulder blades, he tried to follow and gore the 
matador y but his strength began to fail. He stood 
still, his head sank down, his knees bent, be knelt. 
And the vast audience stood in hush and silence 
to watch with delighted expectancy the final on- 
coming of death. When he rolled over quite 
dead, the pretty women in the box behind me 
shouted and waved their dainty hands in mad de- 
light. 

The fourth bull was just ushered in when the 
brutality and cruelty and horror of It all quite 

84 




JUAREZ' TOMB AND WREATHS 
OF SILVER 



A Mexican Bullfight 

nauseated me. I rose to go. My friend told our 
neighbors that I was ''ill." Otherwise they could 
not have understood my leaving in the midst of 
the fight. Afterward I heard it declared to be 
a very fine performance, for, as a little Mexican 
boy exclaimed delightedly, "they killed six bulls 
and thirteen horses! It was magnificor' 

As I sat and looked out on the ten thousand 
faces of all classes, rich and poor, all radiant and 
frenzied with the blood-lust and the joy of seeing 
a creature tortured to the very death, and then 
heard the clang of the multitudinous church bells, 
calling to Vesper services, even before the spec- 
tacle was ended, I realized that, surely, I was 
among a different people, bred to a different civil- 
ization from my own ; a civilization still mediaeval 
and still as cruel as when the Inquisition sated even 
fanaticism with its cultivated passion for blood! 
I also shame to say that I met to-night two young 
American ladies, school teachers at Toluca, going 
home with two bloody banderillas plucked from 
one of the bulls — "Trophies to keep as souvenirs." 
They "Had so much enjoyed the fine spectacle." 
Thus do even my countrywomen degenerate, thus 
is the savage aroused within their hearts ! 



85 



VIII 
From Pullman Car to Mule-back 

MiCHOACAN, Mexico, 

No'vemher 25th. 

After the bullfight we had difficulty in find- 
ing a cocha to take us to the railway station. In 
fact, we could not get one. We were compelled 
to depend upon cargadores, who carried our trunks 
and bags upon their backs, while we jostled along 
the crowded sidewalks. And here, I might re- 
mark, that there is no such thing as a right-of-way 
for the footfarer on either street or sidewalk. 
You turn to the right or left, just as it may be 
most convenient and so does your neighbor. You 
cross a street at your peril, and you pray vigor- 
ously to the saints when you are run down. 

We left Mexico City about five o'clock in the 
evening, taking the narrow gauge National Rail- 
way to Acambaro and Patzcuaro, where horses 
and a guide were to be awaiting us, and whence 
we would cross the highlands of the Tierra Fria 
and finally plunge into the remote depths of the 
Tierra Caliente, along the lower course of the 

86 




THE TREE WHERE CORTEZ WEPT 
EL NOCHE TRISTE 



From Pullman Car to Mule-back 

Rio de las Balsas, where it forms the boundary 
line between the states of Michoacan and Guererro, 
on Its way to the Pacific. 

As we departed from the city, we passed 
through extensive fields of maguey, and began 
climbing the heavy grade which would lift us up 
some four thousand feet ere we should descend 
Into the valley of Toluca, more lofty, but no less 
fertile than the basin of Anahuac. Before we 
crept up the mountain very far, darkness de- 
scended precipitately upon us, for there Is no twi- 
light in these southern latitudes. 

We were at Acambaro for breakfast, and all 
the morning traversed a rolling, cultivated, tim- 
bered country much like the blue grass counties 
of Greenbrier and Monroe In West Virginia. 
Here we travelled through some of the loveliest 
landscapes In all Mexico. This Is a region of 
temperate highlands amidst the tropics, so high In 
altitude lies the land, — seven to eight thousand 
feet above the sea. There was much grass land 
and there were wheat and corn fields many miles 
in area. Here and there crops were being gath- 
ered, and yokes of oxen were dragging wooden 
plows, the oxen pulling by the forehead as In 
France. Several successive crops a year are raised 
upon these lands. No other fertilization Is there 
than the smile of God, and these crops have here 

87 



On the Mexican Highlands 

been raised for a thousand years — irrigation being 
generally used to help out the uncertain rains. 
We passed vineyards, and apple and peach and 
apricot orchards, forests of oak and pine, several 
lakes, Cuitzeo and Patzcuaro, being the largest of 
them — lakes, twenty and thirty miles long and ten 
to twenty wide. Never yet has other craft than 
an Indian canoe traversed their light green, brack- 
ish waters. 

These high upland lakes of Mexico are the 
resting-places of millions of ducks and other water- 
fowl, which come down from the far north here 
to spend the winter time. It is their holiday sea- 
son. They do not nest or breed in Mexico. They 
are here as migratory winter visitors. Mexico is 
the picnic ground of all duckdom. On Lakes 
Tezcoco, Xochimilco and Chalco, near to Mexico 
City, the destruction of the wearied ducks is an 
occupation for hundreds of Indians, the birds 
being so tired after their long flight from sub- 
Arctic breeding grounds, that It is often many 
days before they are able to rise from the water, 
when once they have settled upon it. The Indians 
paddle among them with torches or in the moon- 
light, and club them to death, or gather them in 
with nets or even by hand, so easy a prey do they 
fall. 

For many miles our train skirted these lovely 
88 



From Pullman Car to Mule-back 

sheets of water, and so tame were the waders and 
swimmers along the shores that they rarely took 
to flight, but swam and dove and flapped their 
wings and played among the sedges as though no 
railroad train were roaring by. Among them I 
looked for the splendid scarlet flamingo and rose- 
ate spoonbill, but happened to see none, although 
they are said often to frequent these shallow 
waters, but pelicans, herons and egrets I saw in 
thousands. 

The first town of importance we reached, after 
leaving Acambaro, was Morella, a city exceeding 
thirty thousand inhabitants, and the capital of the 
important state of MIchoacan. The people gath- 
ered at the Incoming of the train were rather 
darker in color than those in Mexico City, which 
seemed to indicate a greater infusion of Indian 
blood. Here we first beheld a number of priests 
garbed in cassock and shovel hat, a costume now 
forbidden by the laws. 

At this station, too, we came upon a curious 
tuber which seemed to be cousin to the yam and 
the Irish potato. The Indians bake it and hand 
it to you bursting with mealy whiteness of a most 
palatable taste. The Mexican eats as opportunity 
occurs, and as opportunity is incessantly offered, 
he is always eating. At least, so it is with the 
Indian. Cooked food and fruits are sold at all 

89 



On the Mexican Highlands 

times along the streets and highways everywhere. 
The hot tamale, and a dozen kindred peppered 
and scorching foods, are always to be had. Or- 
anges and lemons, limes and pomegranates, figs 
and bananas, cocoanuts and sugar cane are sold 
at a price so low that the poorest can buy. Can- 
died fruits are abundantly eaten, and delicious 
guava paste is handed up to the car windows on 
little trays. 

Our sleeper went only as far as Morelia. 
After that we traveled In the day coach. Our 
traveling companions had been three or four Mex- 
ican gentlemen, who kept closely together, inces- 
santly smoking cigarettes. In the day coach we 
were now traveling with people of the country- 
side. A tall, white-haired priest, in cassock and 
shovel hat, with bare feet thrust Into black, leath- 
ern sandals, sat just in front of me. A large, brass 
crucifix, six or eight inches long, hanging about 
his neck, suspended by a heavy brass chain, was his 
only ornament. He was much interested In my 
kodak and watched me taking snap shots at the 
flying panorama. He Indicated that he would 
like to have his own picture taken, arranging him- 
self gravely for the ordeal. No sooner had I 
snapped the padre than several of his parishioners 
moved up and Intimated that they also would be 
pleased to have me take their portraits. The film 

90 




N 



From Pullman Car to Mule-back 

on which these pictures were taken was afterwards 
lost, or I should be able to present these friends 
to you. 

As we drew near Patzcuaro, the car filled up, 
and among the Incomers were a number of pretty 
senoritas of high-class Spanish type. Their skins 
were fair, their facial outlines were softly moulded 
and their large dark eyes were lustrous beneath 
their raven hair. Most of the ladies smoked cig- 
arettes, for every car Is a smoking car in this 
Spanish-Indian land. Very few Indians rode upon 
the train. The railway Is too expensive a mode of 
traveling for them. 

It was past the midday hour when we came to 
Patzcuaro, a city of perhaps ten thousand souls. 
For many miles we had followed the shores of the 
lake of that name. Far across the light green 
waters I noted many islands. Upon one of these 
stands the Mission Church, where is preserved the 
famous altar painting supposed to be by Titian — 
a picture so sacred that it has rarely been looked 
upon by white men, much less by a heretic gringo. 
I had hoped to be able to voyage across the lake 
and see the precious painting, despite the jealous 
care with which the Indians are said to guard It, 
but the hurry of travel has made this impossible. 

A crowd of almost pure Indians was gath- 
ered to meet the train. They watched us closely, 

91 



On the Mexican Highlands 

while we bargained for our trunks and bags to be 
carried upon the backs of eager cargadores two 
miles up the long hill to the town. We passengers 
entered an antique tram car, drawn by six mules. 
It was packed to suffocation, most of the occupants 
being ladies of the city, who had ridden down to 
see the train arrive and were now riding back 
again. Among them sat one whose cracking face, 
I was told, disclosed leprosy, a disease here not 
uncommon. Not many gringos visit Patzcuaro, 
and our strange foreign clothing and unknown 
speech were matters of curious comment. Our 
mules clambered up the hill at a gallop, urged by 
a merciless rawhide. We halted finally before a 
quaint and ancient inn. La Colonia. Through a 
big open doorway, into which a coach might drive, 
penetrating a high, white wall, we passed to an ill- 
paved interior courtyard, where our host, the land- 
lord, greeted us with formal ceremony. He then 
led us up a flight of stone steps to a wide, stone- 
flagged piazza running round the interior of the 
court. We were there given rooms opening off 
this open corridor, each door being ponderously 
locked with a big iron key. I had scarcely reached 
my quarters before the cargadore brought in my 
trunk. He had carried it two miles upon his back 
in almost as quick time as we had traveled in the 
six-mule car. I paid him twenty-five cents (Mex- 

92 



From Pullman Car to Mule-back 

ican) for this service (ten cents in United States 
money) . He bowed with gratitude at my liberal 
fee. 

The inn faces upon a wide plaza around which 
are many ancient stone and adoby buildings, for 
Patzcuaro is an old city and was the chief Taras- 
con town before Cortez and his conquestedores 
made it the capital of a Spanish province. On one 
side of the plaza is a large and towered church, 
while beside it stand the extensive, crumbling walls 
of a dismantled convent. Upon the opposite side 
are many little shops, and upon the other two 
are inns of the city with their rambling court- 
yards, within which gather and disperse constantly 
moving streams of horsemen, mule drivers and 
pack beasts. Patzcuaro is the gateway through 
which a large commerce is borne by thousands of 
pack animals and Indian carriers to all the country 
In the southwest, even to La Union upon the Pa- 
cific, a hundred miles away. Until recently, 
through here also passed a large portion of the 
traffic which crossed the Rio de las Balsas and the 
Cordilleras to Acapulco. 

My companions for the journey are three. 
There is "Tio,** as we have familiarly named him, 
who is leader of our company. He is a giant- 
framed mountaineer of the middle west, who has 
spent a life-time in prospecting the Rocky Moun- 

93 



On the Mexican Highlands 

tains and the Cordilleras from Canada to Central 
America. Like all those of that fast disappearing 
race, the lone prospector, he is visionary and san- 
guine of temperament, and a delightful companion 
for a plunge among the wild and lonely regions 
of the Cordilleras. His imagination is eternally 
fired by the ignes-fatui of mineral wealth, and he 
has discovered, exploited and lost a hundred for- 
tunes with no lessening of the gold-silver-copper 
hunger which Incessantly gnaws his vitals. His 
muscles are of Iron, his voice is deep and resonant. 
Kindly by nature, his solitary life has made him 
reticent and self-contained. Only incidentally do 
I learn of his past. A slight scar upon the back 
of his right hand is all that witnesses the smash- 
ing of a w^5c^/-infurlated Indian who once went 
up against him with murderous two-bladed cuch- 
illo; a bullet graze upon his brov/ is his only ref- 
erence to a duel-to-the-death, where, it is whis- 
pered, the black eyes of a sehorita were once in- 
volved. Grim and rugged and silent he declares 
himself to be a man of peace, and none there are 
who care to disturb this tranquility. But despite 
his austerity, Tio has a weakness. He Is not a 
little vain of his mastery of the idiomatic intri- 
cacies of the Iberian tongue. Nothing delights 
him more than to dismay a humble peon by the 
sonorous bellowing of a salutation put in vernac- 

94 



From Pullman Car to Mule-back 

ular Spanish or Tarascon. He rides beside me 
and acquaints me with the history, geography and 
probable mineral riches of the land we traverse. 

Then there Is "El Padre" as we call him, who 
joins our party as our guest and for the pleasure 
and profit of seeing the wilder, remoter sections 
of the great state of MIchoacan. He Is virtually 
the Presiding Bishop of the Baptist Missionaries 
of Mexico, for as General Secretary he visits their 
different stations, handles the funds sent down by 
the General Board from Richmond, Virginia, and 
does Invaluable work In organizing and directing 
the common propaganda. He Is a native of Ten- 
nessee, a graduate of the University of that state, 
a cultivated, scholarly man who speaks classic Span- 
ish and Is master of local dialects as well. I find 
him greatly respected by the leading Mexicans 
whom we meet, and withal a most delightful and 
Intelligent comrade. He Is an adept at adjusting 
all those little comforts of the camp which only 
the practiced traveler can know, and by his bon- 
hommie and courtesy wins the good will of senor 
and peon alike, while even the Roman padres we 
fall In with return his salutations with friendly 
greeting. 

Izus Hernandes, our mozo, completes the 
party. He lives In Patzcuaro, where Sehora 
Hernandes brings up his numerous brood, for he 

95 



On the Mexican Highlands 

IS father of eleven living children. He is short 
and slender, with dark black beard covering his 
face. His color is pale brown, and like most of the 
population hereabouts, he has in his veins much 
Tarascon blood. His manners are gentle and cour- 
teous, even suave to Tio and El Padre and myself, 
but his orders are sharp and peremptory to the 
horseboys and stablemen of the ranchos and fon- 
das where we stop. He has spent his lifetime 
traversing these trails between Patzcuaro and La 
Union and Acapulco, driving bands of pack ani- 
mals and acting as escort for parties of Dons and 
Donas when trusty guards have been in demand. 
He supplies his own pack animals, is past master 
in cinching on a load, and makes all bargains and 
pays all bills in our behalf. He is our courier and 
valet of the camp combined. And he proves him- 
self worthy of his hire — two silver pesos (80 cents 
United States) per day — for he never fails us 
throughout the trip. 

Our horses have been picked with care and 
newly shod. Tio bestrides a mettlesome white 
mare, while El Padre rides a chestnut sorrel, lean 
and toughened to the trail and gaited with giant 
stride, a famous horse for fatiguing days of moun- 
tain travel. For myself has been reserved the 
choicest of the mount, an iron-limbed black mule — 
the mule Is the royal and honored saddle-beast in 

96 




IZUS AND EL PADRE 



From Pullman Car to Mule-back 

all Spanish lands — a beast well evidencing Isus' dis- 
cerning choice. 

Our coming being expected, arrangements had 
been made for our further journey to the South. 
Our mozo was awaiting us in the courtyard of the 
Fonda Diligencia with the four saddle-beasts and 
two pack animals, a black bronco and a stout 
white pack mule. We carried snug folding cots, 
which rolled up into compact bundles, and extra 
food against short rations, when we should reach 
the borders of Guerrero. We are provided with 
immense Mexican sombreros, of light woven straw, 
which cost us fifteen centavos apiece, the high, 
peaked crown and wide-reaching brim protecting 
head and neck completely from the sun. 

We have with us heavy clothing and flannels 
for our journey along the highlands of the Tierra 
Fria, and also the thinnest of linen and wool gar- 
ments to save us from the scorching sun, when we 
descend into the hot levels of the Tierra Caliente, 
I have purchased a pair of immense Mexican spurs 
and my mule's mouth is choked with a mass of 
wicked iron, calculated to break the jaw with little 
effort, should I pull hard enough on my rawhide 
bridle rein. A rawhide goad hangs upon one side 
of my saddle-pommel and my long barreled Colt's 
revolver, loaded and ready for instant use, hangs 
on the other. We are all armed and our mozo 

7 97 



On the Mexican Highlands 

has a formidable and ancient sword strapped along 
the left saddle-side beneath his leg. 

We dined In the low-celHnged eating hall of 
the Colonia, upon a well-served dinner of boiled 
rice, boiled chicken, yams and peppers, and cups 
of strong black coffee, drunk with sugar, but no 
milk. Our city clothes are left behind In a 
room, the rent of which we have paid a fortnight 
In advance, and the large Iron key of which we 
take along. 

Our foreign looks and ways attracted much 
attention in the town. A crowd gathered In the 
courtyard of the fonda to see us off. Our coming 
and our going were events. Nor was It altogether 
a simple matter to pack our equipment safely and 
balance It properly upon the beasts. But Izus was 
an expert, and with many yards of palmetto rope 
finally cinched fast the loads. At a word from him 
the pack animals trotted forth from the fonda^s 
court, he following behind, while we brought up 
the rear. ^'Adios, adios, sehoreSy* shouted the 
crowd. ^* Adios, adios/^ we replied. 

Our animals knew the road perfectly. They 
had traveled It many a time before. We wound 
and twisted through narrow streets, we passed 
several wide plazas, and then turning up a street 
wider than the rest, began the ascent toward the 
hills which lie back of the city. 

98 



IX 

A Journey Over Lofty Tablelands 

Ario, Michoacan, Mexico, 

No<vember 26th. 

As WE wound higher and higher toward the 
summit of the hills, the town nestled below us half- 
hidden among umbrageous trees, and groves of 
orange and apricot and fig, while stretching beyond 
it, toward the northeast, lay the light green ex- 
panse of lovely Lake Patzcuaro. The panorama 
before me as I turned in my saddle to gaze upon 
It, presented a vista of wood and water, of fertile, 
cultivated, well populated country, delighting the 
eye on every hand. We were traversing a land 
enjoying one of the most salubrious climates of 
the world. 

We had started about four o'clock in the after- 
noon, and before we had ridden many miles the 
shadows began to creep across the landscape, and 
then, sudden as the drop of a curtain, down fell 
the fullness of the night. This absence of twilight 
IS always a perpetual surprise to me. I do not yet 
become used to this immediate extinction of the 

99 



On the Mexican Highlands 

day. The sudden banishment of the sun did not 
cause me uneasiness, however, despite the fright- 
ful condition of the labyrinthine paths along which 
we threaded our way, for the moon was at its full. 
It shone with the splendor and potency which our 
altitude and tropical latitude assured. We were 
more than seven thousand feet above the sea and 
rising higher at every league. The thin, trans- 
lucent atmosphere gave to the moon a wonderful 
quality of illumination. It shone white and radi- 
ant, with a brilliance which permitted the reading 
of a newspaper with ease. The landscape, the 
wide expanses of cultivated fields, the thousands 
of acres of corn and wheat and rolling grass land, 
the dense copses and thorny vine-woven thickets, 
the miles of maguey plantations, the orchards of 
apples, of apricots, of lemons and of limes, lay 
illuminated and distinct in the strange white light, 
revealed with almost the same vividness as in the 
day. Only the shadows were dark, were sharp 
and black and solid. For several miles we rode 
through forests of oaks and pines, our little cara- 
van appearing and disappearing into the blackness 
of the shadow and then into the lightness of moon- 
beam, in perpetual hide and seek. We passed mul- 
titudes of pack beasts, in droves of a score or more, 
generally led by a bell-mare, and followed by two 
or three ^cherros in zerape and flapping sombrero, 

100 




THE HIGHWAY TO THE PACIFIC 



A Journey Over Lofty Tablelands 

as well as many burros, these generally driven by 
Indians. Here and there, we came upon a blazing 
fire by the wayside, where were camping for the 
night the cargadores, roasting tortillas and boiling 
frijoles, or wrapped in their zerapes, their chins 
between their knees, asleep before the flickering 
embers. 

It was nine o'clock when the white walls of 
Santa Clara gleamed before us. We saw a long 
paved street, ending in a little plaza filled with 
great anciently-planted trees. Along the street 
were only high, bare, white, adoby walls, rarely the 
glimmer of a light shone through a small and 
high-up window. Midway along this street, we 
turned into a wide doorway and, passing through 
the low encircling building, entered a large stone- 
paved courtyard. The backs of thirty or forty 
pack mules, from the lowlands of the Pacific, were 
here being unloaded of cocoanuts, and salt and 
dried palm leaves for rope and mat-making. 
Drivers and stableboys were swearing melodiously 
in Spanish and Tarascon. There was everywhere 
great stir and nobody paid us the slightest heed. 
We halted and dismounted. Our mozo Izus, took 
charge of our animals. A swarthy, burly Mexican 
bade us put our personal belongings in a little 
room, where was also soon set our baggage. He 
then locked the door and gave us a big iron key 

lOI 



On the Mexican Highlands 

as evidence of possession. In another house, 
further along the street, we found an old Indian 
dame who gave us boiled rice, peppers, and a dish 
of stewed chicken, setting before us cups of boiling 
hot water and a small earthen pitcher of black, 
strong essence of coffee. A couple of spoonfuls of 
this, put into the water, gave me a delightful cup 
of fragrant drink, and a lump of the brown native 
sugar sweetened it perfectly. This method of mak- 
ing coffee I commend. Every housewife in Mex- 
ico roasts, grinds and drips through little flannel 
bags her own coffee essence. She keeps it always 
on hand. There is always hot water simmering 
on the clay oven, and it is only a moment's care 
to provide the traveler with as much of the fra- 
grant, vivifying drink as he requires. 

In another house, across the street, we were 
bedded for the night. A single, large, high-ceil- 
inged room off a big, airy court was assigned to us. 
The Iron bedsteads were narrow, each with one 
thin mattress and no springs, but there were home- 
woven blankets to roll ourselves In and In the 
morning basins of beaten copper were brought us 
to wash In, with water poured from graceful 
ewers of like metal; evidences of the survival 
yet of a native Industry for which this region and 
town have been famous ever since the days of 
Tarascon dominion. I endeavored to buy these 

102 




NEARING ARIO 



A Journey Over Lofty Tablelands 

handsome copper utensils, but my hostess would 
take no price, although I really offered her a great 
sum in my eagerness to possess them. They were 
heirlooms, she said, and too precious for money 
to avail. 

The night was cold, almost frosty. On these 
high tablelands, a mile and a half above the sea, 
the radiation of the sun's heat is rapid and, the 
year round, by morning the thermometer is usually 
close to thirty-nine degrees (Fahrenheit). 

We were up betimes, out of the town, and 
among cultivated fields and orchards and pine and 
oak woods again, before the sun became at all 
oppressive. 

As yet, I have not seen many birds in Mexico, 
only the waterfowl along the lakes and a few 
finches in the thickets along the way. To-day we 
have traveled in company with many ravens. 
Tame and companionable they are, so usual is the 
sight of mules and men along this frequented high- 
way. 

Santa Clara is close to the height of land. 
Seven thousand two hundred feet above the sea, 
my aneroid declared, and from that altitude we 
began to descend. The thirty miles to Ario is one 
steady decline, a gradual fall of twelve hundred 
feet. 

This whole country hereabout is held In vast 
103 



On the Mexican Highlands 

haciendas of thousands of acres, and is chiefly 
owned by nonresident landowners who rarely, if 
ever, visit their possessions, but trust entirely to 
overseers to manage and work them and wring an 
income from the hapless peon. It is a land of 
great fertility. Only the most primitive methods 
of agriculture are employed, and work is done in 
the most inefficient way. Yet huge incomes are 
withdrawn from the land, and spent by the distant 
haciendado in his city home in Mexico, or in Paris, 
or Madrid. These lands are said to be marketable 
(buyable) at about ten dollars (Mexican) per 
acre, say four dollars in United States money. As 
I have been riding along, viewing mile after mile 
of this superb fertility in a climate temperate all 
the year around, I have pondered much on what a 
garden it might have been, and it yet may be, if 
ever the thrifty American shall have it in posses- 
sion. 

Toward noon we began to gain a wider view 
of the landscape opening before us toward the 
south and west. Our altitude was steadily lessen- 
ing and, many miles distant, seemingly, there was 
a sudden falling away of the land to profound and 
indefinite depths, whence came the impression of 
tropical verdure, the whole expanse backed on the 
horizon by blue and jagged lines of lofty mountain 
chains, peaks and summits which sometimes pierced 

104 



A Journey Over Lofty Tablelands 

the zenith, far to the southwest. They were the 
mighty Cordilleras of Guerrero, a hundred miles 
away and barring from view the Pacific Ocean just 
beyond. On a day wholly clear, it is said, the 
snow-capped cones of Colima may be seen, also, 
far to the northwest, but gaze as we might we 
could catch no glimpse of the mighty volcano. 

Thousands of cattle are raised in Mexico, and 
we passed many extensive herds being driven 
toward Patzcuaro. They were urged on by vocif- 
erous vaqueros, swearing musically the immense 
and cumbrous Spanish oaths — yet have we seen 
almost no milch cows and the few we saw were 
those gathered in a corral hard by a wide thatched- 
roofed building, known as a "milk ranch," an 
establishment where milk is gathered and shipped 
to nearby Ario, and butter and cheese are made 
for immediate sale. A cross upon the gable de- 
noted it to be under the protection of the Virgin 
and I hope assured milk unadulterated to its pa- 
trons. From my saddle I caught a snap shot of 
the ranch and send you the pretty picture. 

Our road now showed signs of being in better 
repair. Finally, the maze of intricate paths along 
which we had traveled, coalesced, and the ancient 
pavement now appeared intact. On either hand, 
tall wide-spreading ash trees arched over the per- 
fect road, carven stone benches stood beneath them, 

105 



On the Mexican Highlands 

and we found ourselves entering the important 
town of Ario. It is a place of more than five thou- 
sand inhabitants, the county seat of the District, 
the home of the Jefe Politico (the 'Apolitical 
chief," mayor, governor, boss and judge), through 
whose iron-handed rule the central government of 
Diaz maintains its firm control. 

We passed an ancient church, turned to the 
right, entered a wide doorway and halted in a well- 
flagged court, in the center of which a fountain 
played amid many flowering plants and cages of 
gay-feathered birds. It was the hotel Morelos. 
We were at the end of our journey in the High- 
lands. We were come to the last town in the 
Tierra Fria. We were on the brink of the hot 
country, the Tierra Caliente, which lay stretched 
out beyond us, one short day's ride and below us 
six thousand feet. 



1 06 



A Provincial Despot and His Residence 

CUYACO, MiCHOACAN, MEXICO, 

No'vember 28th. 

Day before yesterday, I wrote to you from 
the curious and most ancient town of Ario, but 
did not tell you all I might, for lack of time. 
The city stands upon the verge of the highlands, 
the Tierra Fria. When the Spaniards founded it, 
several centuries ago, they placed it, with strategic 
judgment, at that point which would enable it to 
command the several trails which here descend to 
the lowland hot country and lead on to the Pacific. 
They placed it on a sloping hillside, as was their 
wont, the better to insure more perfect drainage, 
for, in those days, the sanitary engineers of old 
Spain knew better how to assure healthful cities 
than did the more barbarous English and the less 
civilized peoples of North Europe. 

The streets of Ario, including every alleyway, 
are paved with sharp, flat stones, set on edge, 
wedged fast, the pavement running from wall to 

107 

i 



On the Mexican Highlands 

wall with a low stone gutter in the middle, into 
which open all the drains from the houses on either 
side. Along these central gutters are turned 
streams of ceaselessly flowing water, keeping the 
city constantly clean. This same sort of street 
paving and drainage prevails wherever possible in 
every Mexican city. To every town of consider- 
ation, water is carried, anciently, by substantial 
and often costly aqueducts ; modernly, through pipe 
lines carefully laid. During the centuries of Span- 
ish dominion these towns and cities have enjoyed 
a supply of water, pure, abundant and free to the 
poorest inhabitant. There are no water rates in 
Mexico. Water is regarded as one of the gifts 
of God to which every man and beast has an in- 
alienable right. To charge for it, would be re- 
garded as indecent and crlrpinal. At the Rancho 
Tejemanll, I offered a boy a centavo for bringing 
me a cup of cold water. He refused to take the 
coin and let it drop upon the ground, rather than 
disgrace himself by so much as touching it. He 
turned away, the coin lying where it fell. I apol- 
ogized to the master of the house for having done 
such a thing as offer money for a drink of water. 
He answered, saying, '^Si, Si SenorT' "Water is 
indeed a gift of God, for which no man should be 
asked to pay.'' 

Although Ario Is In the neighborhood of ex- 
io8 



A Provincial Despot and His Residence 

tensive forests of pine and oak, yet all the build- 
ings are constructed of stone and cement, mortar 
and adoby sundried brick. Indeed, I have seen 
no wooden buildings in Mexico. Consequently, 
there pervades Mexican cities, towns and even vil- 
lages an air of substantial solidity, quite lacking in 
American wooden towns. 

We brought letters to the Jefe Politico, Senor 
Don Louis Salchaga, the despot of the county and 
governor of the iron hand. He was of large phy- 
sique; tall, broad-shouldered, firmly knit, with 
strong, square chin and commanding eye. His 
hair was gray almost to whiteness ; and a sweeping 
mustache, re-enforced the general impressiveness 
of his countenance. He was clad in a linen undress 
military uniform. He greeted us with courtly 
Spanish graciousness. He lives in a two-storied 
stone house at the intersection of two streets, one 
of which leads from the plaza. Entering through 
a narrow doorway, at the side, we found ourselves 
in a small, cement-paved room, whose stone walls 
perhaps, in years gone by, were white with lime. 
Don Louis sat at a table scrutinizing papers 
handed him by a dark-faced youth, who stood at 
his side. As we entered he hastily signed them, 
pushed them toward the clerk and rose to greet 
us. We learned afterwards what the documents 
were, one of them a decree settling a lawsuit, the 

109 



On the Mexican Highlands 

other an order that a prisoner be transferred from 
one jail to another some miles distant. Such an 
order Is equivalent to a death warrant in this land 
of the Iron hand. On the way, the prisoner Is said 
to have "tried to escape." Necessarily they have 
been forced to shoot him. He Is burled where he 
falls. 

Don Louis pressed us to dine with him that 
evening at seven o'clock, having first politely In- 
quired of my Spanish-speaking friends whether 
*^El Senor de Estados Unidos tiene dineroT* 
(Does the gentlemen from the United States pos- 
sess money?) My friends replied, ^^Si, Si, Senor, 
mucho diner 0,^* (Yes, yes, sir, much money;") so 
we were asked to dine ! Probably, of all people 
upon this planet none are more expert In extract- 
ing the dinero from the American pocket than are 
the gracious Latins of the south. If you have 
money, the laws open wide their gates, and 
all government officials pat you on the back, mean- 
while filching just a little from your unsuspecting 
pocket. Even the Padre and the Archbishop, for 
the proper toll of gold, will shove you through the 
quicker to the gates of Paradise. 

At seven o'clock It was dark; the stars glowed 
big;, the moon was not yet up. The city was 
ablaze with electric lights. On this second visit 
we did not go to the office door, but entered the 

no 



A Provincial Despot and His Residence 

wide-arched entrance for man and beast. We 
came into the usual square patio, where waters 
plashed and tropical plants, many of them in 
flower, were set about in pots. Don Louis greeted 
us as we entered. He shook hands twice all round. 
He led us across the court to the far side and into 
the dining room, a stone and cement-walled cham- 
ber with stone-flagged floor, wholly without adorn- 
ments. No cloth covered the plain wooden table. 
There were wooden benches along the wall on 
either side. He introduced us to his wife, Doha 
Maria, and a little grandson of twelve years. The 
Doha was tall, for a Mexican woman, and stout. 
Her hair was white, parted in the middle and 
brushed smoothly back from her forehead. She 
wore a light muslin of white. She displayed no 
jewels, although undoubtedly possessing them. 
Don Louis wore an immense diamond on his left 
middle finger, while a heavy gold chain about his 
neck secured a big gold watch. 

Our hostess could speak no English, but our 
host said he could read it and understood it 
"spoken very slow, a leetel;" ''but the grandson," 
he said, "had a tutor who was teaching him Eng- 
lish, — a young man who had lived six months in 
Texas at San Antonio and there mastered the 
northern tongue !" The meal was simple. A very 
good soup, redolent of garlic and peppers, was 

III 



On the Mexican Highlands 

followed with boiled rice and stewed chicken, a 
dulce, some really delicious preserved guavas, and 
cheese. Then cups of hot water and the small pot 
of coffee essence were set before us, and we 
"coffeed" the water to suit our taste. Just when 
I presumed we were at an end, a servant entered 
and set before each of us a soup plate of frijoles, 
with a big spoon. No Mexican considers a dinner 
properly concluded without frijoles. I had heard 
of frijoles. I had been told that tortillas and 
frijoles were the staff of Mexican life. Now the 
frijoles were before me. What were they? My 
plate contained nothing but large black beans float- 
ing in a thin soup. Perhaps the water should have 
been poured off, I do not know, but the beans 
floated and the liquor was thin. And Don Louis 
ladled them into his mouth with evident relish! 
Vivan frijoles! 

Don Louis had resided in Arlo three years. 
He came from the state of Toreon. How long 
would he remain in Ario? He did not know. 
Quien sahef El Presidente Diaz sent him here 
and there, into such States and Districts as might 
be in need of a trusted lieutenant whose smile was 
beneficent, whose hand was proven steel. 

In response to the letters we bore, Sehor Don 
Louis gave us other letters to the chief men of the 
Distrito — a sort of circular blanket letter — and 

112 



A Provincial Despot and His Residence 

hinted that he would go part of the way with us 
next day, which, it came to pass he did. 

Later in the evening, we also called upon Senor 
Don Juan Rodrigues Tarco, one of the leading 
citizens of Ario, a lawyer of distinction, and who 
gave us letters to the superintendent of the Mina 
El Puerto, at Churumuco, on the river Balsas. 
We met him at his house. Through an unpreten- 
tious doorway, which you might drive through, 
we came into a patio with many flowering plants 
and palms and a fountain. Near the entrance, on 
the left, we entered the reception room. This was 
a large high-ceilinged chamber with handsomely 
tiled floor, palmetto rugs, modern French furniture 
of cane, walls and ceiling frescoed in good taste. 
There were some good pictures on the walls, a new 
upright piano, and several mahogany book-cases, 
whose shelves were well filled with books, mostly 
in Spanish, a few in French and English. There 
were porcelain vases and handsome modern lamps. 
In any city, this would be regarded as a room of 
elegance, and to think that every luxury we looked 
upon had been carried more than fifty miles over 
frightful trails, upon the backs of men and mules ! 

El Senor was a small dark man, alert in his 
movements and quick of mind, a gentleman, hav- 
ing wide knowledge concerning the mineral wealth 
of Michoacan. He studied in the Universities at 
8 113 



On the Mexican Highlands 

Morelia and Mexico City. He was a liberal In 
politics, and spoke with enthusiasm of modern 
Mexico, her mineral resources, the awakening of 
her industries, the growth of her commerce. He 
read French and English, but spoke only Spanish. 
His sons were away at school. In Toluca, and were 
learning English. It Is the great desire of the 
young men of Mexico to learn to speak English, 
he said. The language Is already taught In all the 
principal schools of Mexico. It Is becoming the 
language of business and commerce. Before many 
years It will be the chief language of Mexico, and 
he regretted that he had not himself, while young, 
been able to master the difficulties of the tongue. 
The ancient Inn, the Hotel Morelos, where 
we put up, was built by the Spaniards more than 
two centuries ago. When we arrived we rode all 
our six mules and horses right through the big 
doorway Into the Interior paved court. Here we 
turned to the left and stopped at a flight of stone 
stairs, which went up to the second floor. All our 
baggage was carried up. A large square room 
was assigned to us. The walls and floor were of 
stone. Three narrow Iron bedsteads were brought 
in, each having good woven wire springs, a thin 
mattress, a sheet, a blanket and a small pillow. 
Our baggage which the two pack mules had car- 
ried was piled In a corner. A table and three com- 

114 




BEGGING A CENTAVO 



A Provincial Despot and His Residence 

modes, one next each bed, a basin and pitcher of 
enameled iron, and four chairs completed the furni- 
ture, all brought in after our arrival. Big double 
doors opened on the inner, tile-floored piazza, over- 
looking the patio, and casemented windows opened 
on the little balcony overlooking the street. On 
our left was another similar chamber, then round 
the corner, a dining room, then the kitchen, then 
another large room, the water-closet, with a dozen 
seats all in a row, used freely by both sexes and 
no lock to the door ! A whole company might use 
it simultaneously. These places, in Mexico, are 
always close to the kitchen. I then understood 
the reason for constant yellow fever in less lofty 
altitudes. 

In the town is a very old and large church with 
two towers and a great clock. Many women were 
kneeling along the dusty floor, saying their ves- 
pers, when we entered. 

An artistic fountain (whose waters are said to 
be "Holy") carved with lions' heads, plays in the 
center of the plaza. From the plaza one can look 
over the lower town and far to the southwest, over 
and into La Tierra Caliente (the hot country) in 
which we now are. But Ario was cool, and at 
night I slept in flannel pajamas under two blankets. 

We were early astir! and enjoyed an excellent 
breakfast of coffee, eggs, chicken, rice, tortillas — 



On the Mexican Highlands 

in fact, I may remark that all meals I have thus 
far eaten off the beaten track of travel in Mexico, 
are quite as good as any I would get in the moun- 
tains of West Virginia. We had the two pack ani- 
mals loaded, paid our bill, about forty cents each, 
(one dollar Mexican), mounted into our saddles 
and filed out of the patio into the street by seven- 
twenty o'clock. There we found El Jeffe Politico 
superbly mounted, astride an elegant saddle with 
red trappings and tassels. He was accompanied 
by six cavalrymen on handsome black chargers, in 
white and blue uniforms, and a company of foot 
soldiers in white uniforms. With them was the 
prisoner, a tall dark man, his left hand in a sling 
and his right hand tied behind to the small of his 
back. All were lined up awaiting us, to be our 
escort till late in the day. So we left Ario with 
dignity and pomp. Whether the prisoner would 
reach the day's end was an open question. 



ii6 




THE JEFE POLITICO AND SOLDIERS 



XI 

Inguran Mines — Five Thousand Six Hun- 
dred Feet Below Ario 

Inguran Mines, 

Nouemher 29th. 

From Santa Clara to Ario we had descended 
one thousand two hundred feet In thirty miles. 
Now we were again going down. Each mile the 
country grew more tropical. A fine, rich, rolling 
land it was, a soil black and fertile; guavas, ba- 
nanas, coffee, and other like trees began to be com- 
mon along the road; long lines of monstrous cen- 
tury-plants (maguey) , supplying an unfailing 
source of pulque^ bordered the roadway on either 
hand, serving as Impenetrable hedges. The camino 
(road) showed signs of having once been graded 
and on the slopes it had been paved from curb to 
curb. Now, as yesterday, allthe road Is gone, or 
nearly so. Chasm-like ruts, vast holes, diverse and 
many paths, give the traveler a varied choice. 

Again we met hundreds of loaded horses, mules 
and burros and scores of men also, bearing crates 
and heavy burdens upon their backs. They were 
transporting cocoanuts, and sugar, and brown 



On the Mexican Highlands 

ocean salt, and palm leaves, and tropical products 
even from the distant Pacific shores, seven or eight 
days' journey across the gigantic summits of the 
Cordilleras far to the southwest. Also, we met 
trains of pack mules loaded with bags of concen- 
trated copper ore from the mines of this great 
mineral belt, wherein now I am. 

I took many kodaks of these travelers as well 
as of passing incidents. The Jefe Politico stopped 
his whole "army," or would have done so, if I 
had not waved him to come on, for the picture had 
been taken while he gave his order, ^^Instante- 
mentey greatly to his surprise. 

By 1 1 :oo A. M., we reached the Rancho 
Nuevo, and entered through the big white wall 
into an extensive courtyard. Here, were already 
several pack trains, some from the mines, one 
going on beyond the Balsas River into Guerrero. 
The journey is from dawn to midday. Then a 
halt is made, the packs are taken off, the animals 
cooled, — led slowly about by boys, — then later, 
the saddles and aparejos (Mexican substitute for 
pack-saddle) are taken off and, finally they are 
watered, and given "roughness" (the stripped 
dried leaves of maize) to munch, but are not fed 
with grain till night. 

Nothing differentiates the Spanish-Indian civ- 
ilization of the Mexican — mediaeval and Roman 

Ii8 




TRANSFERRING THE PRISONER 



Inguran Mines 

as it is — from the twentieth century civilization of 
our own modern life, more than the attitude of the 
two peoples in regard to the suffering of dumb 
creatures. This I see everywhere and at all times. 
For example: The Spanish-Mexican knows no 
other bit to put upon his horse than a cruel combi- 
nation of rough steel bars and pinching rings suffi- 
cient to break the jaw. No horse nor mule, nor 
burro, wearing this cruel device, will pretend to 
drink a drop of water, nor can he, until it is re- 
moved. When you would water your beast, you 
must dismount, take off the bridle and remove the 
harsh mass of iron from his mouth. 

Pack-animals are rarely shod and are often 
driven until their hoofs are worn to the quick and 
their backs are raw and the flesh Is chafed away 
even to the bone. When they can travel no fur- 
ther they are turned out to die or to get well as 
best they may, no one caring what may be their 
fate. Horsemen ride the ponderous leathern sad- 
dles of the country In the fierce heat of the Tierra 
Caliente as well as upon the highlands of the 
Tierra Fria. And no one would think, for a mo- 
ment, of pausing In his journey for the mere reason 
that his horse's back had become galled and sore, 
however grievous the wounds might be. The gi- 
gantic spurs with their big blunt points are perpet- 
ually rolled with pitiless insistence and an Incessant 

119 



On the Mexican Highlands 

jabbing heel motion along the animal's bloody 
sides. 

The same cruelty which we saw practiced in 
the bullring, where horses were ripped open, sewed 
up twice and thrice and ridden back into the arena 
to be ripped open just once more, amidst the plaud- 
its of vociferating thousands, is equally apparent 
along this traveled highway where we constantly 
meet animals overloaded to their death, animals 
turned out to die, animals fallen beneath their loads 
and unable to rise. 

At the Rancho Nuevo, the Spanish-Indian ladies 
of the kitchen promised us boiled chicken with our 
rice for the midday meal. One of the ladies, a 
stocky, swarthy Indian, with her agile son, started 
in hot chase after a long-legged active hen. The 
bird seemed to know its fate. Several short-haired 
dogs joining In the pursuit, the hen was captured. 
The mother brought It to me holding it up show- 
ing it to be fat and well-fed, and then, as she stood 
beside me, watching a caravan of pack animals 
on the moment just entering the courtyard, she 
calmly broke the thigh bone of each leg and the 
chief bone of each wing, so that escape became 
impossible, and proceeded right then and there to 
pick the chicken alive. She was evidently uncon- 
scious of any thought of cruelty. The legs and 
wings were broken in order that the bird might not 

1 20 




COOLING THE HORSES— RANCHO NUEVO 



Inguran Mines 

run or fly away. It was picked alive as a matter 
of course. The sentiment of pity and tenderness 
for dumb things had never yet dawned upon her 
mind. The fowl destined for the pot, was as little 
considered as the wounded prisoner with his wrists 
tied tight to the neck and back, whom Don Louis' 
soldiers that day were "transferring" to another 
jail. 

Our Jefe Politico had been joined by two Span- 
ish (Mexican) gentlemen, managers {superintend- 
entes) of haciendas and we all dined together. 
We had the hen cooked with rice and then frijoles, 
and I gave them of my precious old Bourbon, 
which — ^^La agua de los Estados Unidos^' — they 
pronounced ^'mas excellentemente'' than their own 
mescal. 

Here we rested until about 3 :oo P. M., when 
we got away for the final descent Into La Tierra 
Caliente, We came down very gradually for about 
an hour and then found ourselves at Agua Sarpo, 
a collection of a few huts on the brink of the pla- 
teau, whence we looked out over an aggregation of 
mountain peaks and ridges, valleys and deep plains, 
much as though you stood at the "Hawk's Nest" 
in West VIrglna, and looked out for a hundred 
miles over a country five thousand feet below, all 
that distant region bathed in lurid heat, verdant 
and luxuriant with tropical vegetation. 

121 



On the Mexican Highlands 

The summits below me were volcanic and the 
flat cone of Mexico's last created volcano, Jorullo, 
thrown up to a height of nearly two thousand feet 
In a single night, September 29, 1759, and so 
graphically described by Humboldt, stood at our 
very feet — the extraordinarily clear atmosphere 
making the volcano and neighboring peaks and 
ranges look as though crowded hard against each 
other, although they were many of them miles 
apart. 

My first herald of the approaching tropics was 
a paraquita gorgeous In emerald and scarlet and 
gold, sitting on a stump watching me Intently, and 
then I noticed a flock of parrots tumbling In the 
air. 

The road, a mere trail, was as steep as some of 
those which lead down from our Kanawha mines. 
We let the Jefe and his soldiers follow us, we tak- 
ing the lead. Down we went and down, and down, 
hour after hour. We passed palm trees, multitudes 
of bananas, and coffee trees. There were many 
Indian huts by the wayside, — for we were on a 
famous, much traveled thoroughfare, — and at 
most of them a bottle or gourd of pulque and fruit 
were set out to tempt the traveler to buy. 

When almost down we came to the hacienda 
Tejemanll, a great sugar estate, with an ancient 
mill run by water conveyed many miles from the 

122 



Inguran Mines 

plateau. Here we rested half an hour, the Jefe 
transacted some business, and we ate delicious 
oranges, small. In color a light yellow, and bursting 
with slightly add juice. 

We were now on a level of palm orchards, 
whence the dried palm leaves are shipped to the 
highlands In great bales. Then we came to an- 
other hacienda, a farm of a hundred thousand 
acres, La Playa, where the Jefe and his company 
with their doomed prisoner took the diverging road 
to La Huacana. Finally, we came to a broad val- 
ley, the valley of El Rio de la Playa, black with 
volcanic sand, called the mal pais (bad land) , this 
being the Immediate region once devastated by the 
terrible eruption of volcano Jorullo. Here were 
extensive banana groves, strange tropical trees 
quite new to me, orchids and palms and a stretch 
of several miles of Indigo and watermelon culti- 
vation. We then crossed another divide and came 
down again just as the big hot sun dove behind the 
mountains and precipitated the night. It was pitch 
dark when we entered the hacienda La Cuyaco and 
dismounted, four thousand eight hundred feet be- 
low Ario, six thousand feet below Santa Clara and 
yet some one thousand two hundred feet above the 
sea. 

This night we slept on rawhide springs, a piece 
123 



On the Mexican Highlands 

of matting for a mattress. We were In the tropics. 
I was forbid to touch water, even to wash. Our 
supper was chocolate, (delicious), tortillas and 
eggs. Parrots and two large gray doves and a 
gold finch hung in cages in the patio where we ate. 
All were new to me. A baby swung in a cradle 
suspended from the ceiling and the father, Izus, 
the keeper of the courtyard, held another. He had 
thirteen children. 

We took off our thick clothes — (it had been 
difficult to endure them all the afternoon) — I put 
on a gauze underwear and linen, and slept without 
the burden of a blanket. In the morning we set 
out early, but the sun was fiercely hot by nine 
o'clock. For some fifteen miles we now traversed 
a wide valley. We were away from the neighbor- 
hood of Jorullo and its scattered volcanic sands, 
and had entered the mineral belt. A ledge bearing 
copper and silver ran through the courtyard of the 
hacienda, I tripped against it when going to 
supper. 

And thereby hangs a tale: Not long ago, it 
seems, an itinerant American — one of those casual 
countrymen of mine who now and then retreat to 
Mexico, when the law at home gives too hot chase 
— dropped in at the hacienda toward the close of 
a hot day and asked for lodging. He was hospit- 
ably received, as is the custom, and when the great . 

124 



Inguran Mines 

bell clanged for supper, he left his sleeping room 
and made his way across the courtyard. 

Walking carelessly, he stubbed his toe against 
the unruly ledge and limping into the dining room, 
his host apologized for the presence of so ill lo- 
cated a ledge of obtruding rock. The guest de- 
clared his hurt a trifling matter, and the incident 
was forgotten. The next morning, he was seen 
knocking the ledge with a hammer and he put 
samples of the rock in his pocket before he went 
away. 

Many months passed by and all memory of the 
casual American had vanished from men's minds. 
Recently, however, an officer connected with the 
Department de Mineria of the Mexican Govern- 
ment, dined at the hacienda and politely informed 
the superintendente, that an American had "de- 
nounced" (i. e. filed claim to) the ledge of mineral 
running through the courtyard, and had received 
title thereto along with the right to occupy as much 
of the adjacent surface as might be necessary to 
work the mine. 

Thus are the proprietors of the hacienda most 
uneasy at the approach of any gringo (contempt- 
uous term for American) lest the newcomer turn 
out to be their casual guest or his representative. 

After leaving Cuyaco, we met constant indi- 
cations of minerals along the road. I also noted 

125 



On the Mexican Highlands 

flocks of parrots, multitudes of jays, flycatchers, 
brown and black vultures and many Caracara 
eagles, all of these birds being new to me; and I 
saw also several fine butterflies, Papilios and Colias, 
small white and orange and yellow ones. But 
nowhere did I see any wild flowers — the season 
was now too hot for these. 

Toward ten o'clock, we stopped at an hacienda, 
that of San Pedro de Castrejon, where the Castre- 
jon brothers live, owners of copper properties near 
those we go to see. They are the grand senores 
of the Valley; they also gave us letters of intro- 
duction. Black birds, big boat-tailed grakles, grey 
and white jays, and scores of wild doves were here 
walking tamely among our horses. Swarms of 
parrots were clamoring in the trees. For a few 
centavos, we here bought delicious bananas, small 
finger size, and others three times as big, and 
oranges and cocoanuts. 

By eleven o'clock we began to see the steam 
from the power house of the Inguran mines and 
were soon there. They are ancient copper mines, 
now being opened by the French Rothschilds, over 
four million francs having been thus far spent. 
Extensive copper deposits are here exposed. The 
managers are all Americans ; one is from Virginia, 
one from California. There is not a Frenchman 
employed. 

126 



Inguran Mines 

We are Installed In the private bungalow of 
the general manager, of Mexico City, from whom 
we brought a letter of Introduction. We are half 
way up the foothills; we have a superb view, the 
beds are comfortable and the fare Is good. 

This morning we have gone through the mines. 
Fuel and transportation are here the two prob- 
lems. This whole region of several hundred miles 
square is rich In copper and silver. Is full of ancient 
mmes, once worked by Indian slaves but now aban- 
doned, since Spanish expulsion and the dawn of 
liberty. 



127 



XII 

Antique Methods of Mining 

MiNA LA NORIA, MiGHOACAN, MEXICO, 

December 4th. 

We left the mines of Inguran early Saturday 
morning. We were up at four-thirty, and by five- 
thirty had packed and breakfasted, desayuno, and 
almuerzo combined. The traveling Mexican eats 
early and, while he may take a midday snack, It 
rarely rises to the dignity of the comida, and when 
the day's journey is over, like the two morning 
meals, the comida and cena, are united into one. 
Our breakfast consisted of fried chicken and rice — 
rice so delicately fried that each grain was encased 
in a crisp and dainty shell, and each mouthful 
cracked with relish between your teeth. Eggs are 
always to be had. In Spain and Cuba an egg is 
called huevOy in Mexico the refinement of language 
substitutes the word blanquillo (little whitey) . It 
is a courtesy to ask your hostess for hlanquillos. 
It would be ill-bred to ask her for huevos. It is 
also a courtesy, to say, when you address her, 

128 




IN FLIGHT FROM MY KODAK 



Antique Methods of Mining 

senorita. If she protests she Is a senora, mother 
of a family and long past the age of a senorita, 
you exclaim *'it is Impossible," for since she looks 
so young, she must be a senorita. The blunt Amer- 
ican manner which calls an egg a huevo, and a 
dame a senora, Is regarded as unpardonably rude. 

By 5 :45 we were climbing down the three hun- 
dred feet of mountain side, through the mining vil- 
lage, over an ancient paved roadway about four 
feet wide, the paving stones set in so firmly between 
the curbs that the floods and wear of the centuries 
and seasons have left it as intact and solid as when 
first laid. The Spaniards built many such road- 
ways to their mines, when they worked the Indians 
as slaves, centuries ago. The mining village was 
picturesque. The miner, ^hen he goes to work, 
builds his own house and pays no rent. The walls 
are upright poles and the roof is a palm leaf 
thatch. When he quits his job he abandons his 
house, although he sometimes carries away the 
roof. Near each dwelling Is built a sort of Dutch 
oven of clay, making an oven and stove combined. 
In It the bread Is baked; upon It most of the cook- 
ing Is carried on. Housekeeping Is a simple pro- 
cess In this tropical land. 

The mines of Inguran are situated at an alti- 
tude of about two thousand feet above the sea, 
and the dry air, not too light nor too heavy, seems 
9 129 



On the Mexican Highlands 

to agree perfectly with the Americans there at 
work, and restored me to a vigor which the thin 
air of the highlands had partly relaxed. We were 
entertained, of an evening, at the delightful bunga- 
low of the superintendent of the inside work, a 
Mr. O'Mahondra, a member of the distinguished 
family of that name of Richmond, Virgina. Orig- 
inally he began the practice of law in Chicago, 
when, his wife being threatened with consump- 
tion, he fled with her to El Paso. There she 
gained nothing and he carried her further south 
and, abandoning the law, took this post at Inguran. 
She was tall, fine looking and the picture of robust 
health. A clever American woman, she had ac- 
quired the art of assaying and, as official assayer 
of the mines, received a handsome salary. "The 
only drawback to living in Inguran," she said, 
*'is that I am so delightfully healthy." 

Our way lay -down and then across the San 
Pedro valley toward the southwest. The valley is 
a mile or two wide. The trail we followed ran 
through dense tropical foliage. The air in the 
early morning was cool almost to coldness. The 
birds were everywhere astir and all their notes 
were new to me. There were many doves, the 
little brown ground dove that merely stepped out 
of our way; a bigger dove, slate gray in color, 
which flew among the higher branches of the 

130 



Antique Methods of Mining 

thickets. The large gray jay was numerous and 
there were many magpies and rusty and yellow- 
headed grakles. Along the watercourses we again 
came constantly upon bands of the big brown and 
small black vultures, as well as Caracara eagles 
which were fishing in the stream. Parakeets, re- 
splendent in green and scarlet and gold, were 
abundant, and flocks of gray and green parrots 
tumbled clumsily in the air. I saw also my first 
big green Military macaws, — birds as large as 
chickens or small turkeys, the body a brilliant 
green, the head capped with red and yellow. I 
have never seen these splendid birds in captivity, 
nor among those brilliant macaws from the Ama- 
zon and from Australia which are so often exhib- 
ited in collections. These macaws were very tame, 
and a flock of them settled upon a mimosa tree 
under which we drew rein. I might have shot 
them with my pistol, and should have brought 
some of them home with me, if I had had any way 
to preserve the skins. In the thickets I also noticed 
flycatchers and several sparrows I did not know, 
but I saw no ravens as I did the other day upon 
the highlands. 

After five or ten miles down the valley, wind- 
ing through the forest, crossing open clearings, 
passing here and there a native hut, frequently 
fording the river, we left the main trail and turned 

131 



On the Mexican Highlands 

up a shaded ravine, following it to its head, where 
we passed through a low gap with high mountains 
on either hand, and then descended toward the 
river again, thus cutting off a great bend and sav- 
ing fifteen or twenty miles. As we came down 
toward the main valley, the timber grew smaller, 
the persistent mesquit more and more possessed 
the land, and the sun fell full upon us. The heat 
was intense. No living thing now seemed any- 
where to exist; only the multitudes of little brown 
lizards, countless thousands of them scurrying on 
the sand; and iguanas, black as night, sleeping in 
the crotch of a tree, or on the heated top of a stone 
near the wayside. Nor did any sound now stir 
the midday silence except the hum of millions of 
cicadas, which the fierce sun rays seem only to 
nurse into active life. 

Six hours in the forepart of the day brought us 
to the Hacienda de Oropeo, on the borders of the 
Rio de San Pedro. Here we halted for the noon- 
time rest, lying-by beneath an Indian shelter, a 
wide-thatched roof of palm leaves, under which 
we could tie our horses, and where we might our- 
selves repose. Here an old Indian woman cooked 
for us tortillas and frijoles. We watched her make 
the tortillas, little cakes of corn meal as thin as 
sheets of paper. The dry kernels of the corn are 
first soaked In lime water until the enveloping shell 

132 



"^^HH^I 


^Hk^.*^^^^^P^^^i!! 


jj^^mMBB 


H^g^^^^^S 


V ^^MRwiiiiliiilM 


^s 


1 


9^ 


M 


n^yy 'V ^^» ^^ 


M 


^MfI 


1 


^H 


1 


m^ 



Antique Methods of Mining 

readily comes off. It is then much like samp. The 
swelled and softened grain is then rubbed to a 
pulp between two stones, the moistened pulp is 
patted between the hands to the thinnest sort of a 
wafer, and these thin wafers are laid upon the top 
of the clay oven to be slowly dried. The tortilla 
is said to be the most nutritious of all foods pre- 
pared from maize. It Is the staff of hfe of the 
Mexican peon, and the making of tortillas is the 
chief vocation In life of his wife and daughters. 
As soon as the little girls are big enough they be- 
gin to pat tortillas, and they continue to pat tor- 
tillas throughout their lives. If you travel through 
an Indian village your ear will be struck by the 
pat, pat, pat, of hundreds of pairs of hands. The 
Indian women are patting tortillas. They are al- 
ways patting tortillas, when not specially occupied 
In other toils. 

Toward 4 :oo P. M. Izus, our mozo, repacked 
the loads, again we mounted, and in an hour were 
across the river, where we ascended a small creek 
a couple of miles to these ancient mines. It was 
while resting at noontime, that we noticed a group 
of thirty or forty men bearing on their shoulders 
the palm-thatched roof of a moving mansion. 
Later, we rode past the new domicile, the roof was 
already set upon the corner posts, and the family 
were already moved into their habitation. 

133 



On the Mexican Highlands 

We are bivouacked in a building where once 
lived the lord of the mines, — mines now filled with 
water and abandoned, although none of the work- 
ings go down more than one hundred feet. The 
building is chiefly constructed, both the floor and 
walls, of sun-baked clay. High above the walls 
rests the palm-thatched roof. There are no frames 
in the window openings, no frames in the door- 
ways. Walls and roof being only a protection 
from the sun heat, the air may blow through where 
it listeth. Our cots are taken from the back of 
"Old Blacky," unrolled and set in the breezy cham- 
ber; upon them we sit and sleep. 

Our only terrors are the ants, but we set the 
legs of the cots in little earthenware pans of water 
and are safe. An Indian family, living in the dis- 
tant end of the rambling, abandoned buildings 
across the courtyard, provides us with boiled rice 
and stewed chicken. Izus has brought us an abun- 
dance of bananas and oranges, fresh, fragrant, and 
luscious. We buy several oranges for a centavo, 
and a centavo is worth less than half an American 
cent. The Indian keeps poultry and also game- 
cocks. These latter are tied by the leg near his 
door. They are his pride, and he fights them on 
Sunday after church. When the priest has closed 
the services the neighbors, who have all brought 
their chickens, form in a circle, and there the 

134 




MOVING A MANSION 



Antique Methods of Mining 

week's wages are staked and lost upon the issue of 
the fights. I send you a snap shot of a battle. 

When dining, we sit on Improvised stools 
around a homemade table and just back of us 
crouch a group of attentive admirers — the fam- 
ished family dogs, rough-haired, cadaverous, wolf- 
eyed, silent dogs they are. They watch with fur- 
tive Intentness each morsel we put Into our mouths, 
they instantly pounce upon each crumb and bone 
which falls within their reach. They never bark — 
only a shrill melancholy howl I sometimes hear 
breaking the stillness of the night ; they never wag 
their tails, for these are always tucked between 
their legs. When we have finished, we toss to 
these wistful watchers the refuse of our meal. 
There Is a silent scuffle, a hasty crunching and then 
each dogs sits up as hungry and observant as be- 
fore. Thus our friends breakfast and dine and 
sup with us, and so filled with suspicion and fear of 
man are they, that they never by any chance allow 
us to approach. ^^Ven'i aqui perro'^ (come here, 
dog) an Indian boy calls out, and Immediately 
perro slinks out of sight. Descended originally 
from the wild coyote, which they much resemble, 
these dogs seem to have acquired little taming by 
contact with man. 

Next up the creek above us lie the Azteca 
mines, long since abandoned, and then come the 

135 



On the Mexican Highlands 

China (pronounced cheena) mines, the only group 
now being worked, the present superintendente 
being a member of the Castrejon family to whom 
they belong. The vein is a porphyry-and-quartz, 
carrying copper, and is about three hundred feet 
wide and almost vertical. It is nearly with the 
watercourse, about one degree to the west, and 
how deep it may go no one knows. This whole 
region is full of holes, generally, say, four feet to 
six feet square, from which for centuries the copper 
ore has been taken. The rich pieces were carried 
away and the balance was thrown upon the ground. 
The entire country is filled with innumerable piles 
of this abandoned copper ore carrying two and 
three per cent of copper, and waiting for that dis- 
tant day when railroads, modern machinery and 
efficient labor shall make this natural wealth profit- 
able to modern enterprise. As it is, the present 
primitive Indian methods of mining and transpor- 
tation on mules, unventilated pits, and awful trails 
climbing stupendous heights, destroy the possibility 
of profit even in working the richest ores. 

Sunday we spent in riding over the hills which 
rise from three to five hundred feet above the 
stream. Up their easy, rounded slopes a horse 
can clamber almost, anywhere. It is a country 
where cattle roam and where the Mexican vaqueros 
(cowboys) are the only human beings. In the 

136 




BRINGING OUT THE ORE 
LA CHINA MINES 



Antique Methods of Mining 

afternoon, we went down to the San Pedro River, 
now a small stream, and bathed in the tepid water, 
where I surprised an old familiar friend, also 
watching the limpid water, a Belted Kingfisher. 
Monday, we spent from seven o'clock to ten, 
going through the China mines, which are worked 
by the Mexicans In the old primitive way. We 
went into the side of the hill by a short tunnel, 
which led to a black hole up out of which stuck 
a slippery pole. On one side of this pole notches 
are cut, and Into these notches, if you want to de- 
scend, you must sidewlse set your feet. Our guide 
clasped the pole with one arm, holding aloft his 
flickering light with the other, and slowly sank 
from sight into the blackness below. We all went 
down, not knowing what might be beneath us. 
At first, my feet would not hold in the notches, 
but it was a matter of setting In my feet or falling 
Into unlimited darkness, so I clung tight and came 
slowly down. The distance was only about tiventy 
feet. Here there was an off-set of eight or ten 
feet, and then another pole and more notches, 
blackness above as well as below, and the notches 
had grown slick through years of contact with 
shoeless Indian feet. Thus we went down and 
down, descending some two hundred feet to where 
the air lay hot and heavy and our breathing be- 
came stertorous and slow. We then followed a 



On the Mexican Highlands 

long narrow tunnel, and came to where naked In- 
dians with steel wedges were sledging out the ore. 
The Indians descend in the morning, they work as 
long as the foul air permits, then they gather up all 
the rock they have dislodged, put it into a bull 
hide sack, load this on their backs and climb up 
the notched poles again to daylight. On issuing 
from the mines they stagger to an ore pile, under 
a thatched roof set on high poles, and dump their 
loads. Around this pile of ore squat twenty or 
thirty Indians, each holding a stone in his hand. 
Each has before him a large flat piece of rock. 
He reaches for the ore pile, takes from it a lump 
which looks fairly good and cracks it to powder 
between the two stones. The mean ore is thrown 
on a dump pile, the rich ore is all cracked up. 
This is the original of the modern stamp mill, 
and it is the only stamp mill the Indian-Mexican 
will probably ever know. The ore, after it is 
pulverized in this way by hand, is put into a 
wooden trough into which water is poured which 
has been carried up in bull hide sacks from the 
stream below, and the ore is thus washed and con- 
centrated. It is afterwards put into sacks, about 
two hundred pounds to the sack, and taken fifty or 
sixty miles, over the frightful precipitous trails, 
to the railroad at Patzcuaro, whence it is shipped 
to the smelter. 

138 




WASHING COPPER ORE 



Antique Methods of Mining 

It IS a wonder that even the Mexicans can thus 
work these mines, year after year, and make the 
smallest profit. The most efficient American man- 
ager would find this to be impossible. The Mex- 
ican superintendente lives on nothing and his Mex- 
ican employes live on less. Eighteen to twenty 
cents a day Mexican (less than ten cents a day in 
American) is the miner's pay. On this amount 
he must support himself and often a large family. 
The Mexicans follow the old Spanish theory, that 
human labor is cheaper than machinery, if you 
can crush down the human labor to a sufficiently 
low wage. Hence, the Mexican employing classes 
discourage both the use of machinery and the edu- 
cation of the peon. Ignorance and the abject pov- 
erty of the working class is the Spanish-American 
Ideal. The day laborer in Mexico is little better 
than a slave. The wealthy mine owner, who lives 
In luxury In the distant Capital, or in Paris, or 
Madrid, may exhibit the evidences of culture and 
refinement, but Mexico can never greatly advance 
until the masses of the common people shall be 
enlightened and by modern statesmanship be lifted 
from this condition of industrial servitude. 

Some of the types among these Indians are 
curious. One man has a head that runs up straight 
behind his ears, nor has he much brain In front. 

139 



On the Mexican Highlands 

Another looks like a Japanese. These Indians — 
they are called Indians, but are many of them half- 
breeds, for there Is much Spanish blood mixed In 
among them — are pitifully poor and are hopeless 
in their poverty. They have been hammered and 
battered for so many centuries by the merciless 
Spanish overlord, that they have had all spirit long 
ago knocked out of them. They seem to be unable 
now to rise. Nor are they a hardy race. When 
sickness prevails they are too poor to employ a 
doctor, but rely upon charms and religious rites. 
I have just acted the part of a physician. I have 
brought with me a small box of selected medicines 
sufficient for the common ailments of this land of 
semltroplcs. I am now prescribing quinine for 
Dona Caldlna, calomel for Sehor Perez. I hear 
that a crippled man Is coming to-morrow to see 
me and ask whether the white senor can cure him 
and make him walk. There Is a certain childlike 
quality about these peones. How humbly they ac- 
cept the superiority of the white man, whom they 
do not love ! 

I see many Instances of what might be called 
degenerates, misshapen heads. Ill-shaped and de- 
formed bodies, signs of a race too much Inbred. 
They wear white cotton clothes, peaked straw hats 
and rawhide sandals. The men generally carry 
blankets (zerapes) folded across the shoulder 

140 




AN ANCIENT DUMP OF COPPER ORE 



Antique Methods of Mining 

which they wrap up in, as do their brothers on the 
highlands, when the air grows cold. 

The coldness of the nights and the burning 
heat of the day are strange. I slept last night in 
flannel underwear, a woolen jersey over that and 
flannel pajamas still outside; then two thick wool 
blankets and a rubber poncho over all. Early, 
toward one or two o'clock I woke up chilled to the 
bone. I put on my corduroy coat. I was just 
warm, for an icy wind was blowing down from the 
lofty altitudes of the Tierra Fria. This morning 
when the sun rose about six o'clock, the air was 
still cold. In an hour it was pleasantly warm, 
birds were singing and flying from tree to tree. 
By nine o'clock the sun blazed like a ball of fire. 
I am now, at half past nine, going about in slip- 
pers, in linen trousers and my thin pajama coat, 
and even then I hide from the sun. By ten o'clock 
a silence lies upon the land profound and over- 
whelming, not a living thing is astir, except only the 
lizards and the cicadas. The daylight ends pre- 
cipitately. The day lasts only as long as the sun 
is up. By half past five the sun hangs above the 
mountains on the west. Suddenly it is gone. In 
fifteen minutes it is dark, the stars are out, and 
such white stars they are! The cold air of the 
highlands then settles down upon us for the night. 



141 



XIII 
Some Tropical Financial Morality 

Churumuco, Mina el Puerto, 
On the Rio de las Balsas, 

December 6th. 

We were up before the day, our horses and 
mules having been fed with grain a little after 
midnight. Thus the food is digested before the 
journey of the day is begun. It was dazzling star- 
light with a gleaming streak of white moon. Our 
two pack beasts had been loaded, we had break- 
fasted and were in the saddles a little after four. 
A keen wind which cut like a knife-edge blew 
steadily down from the highlands behind us. I 
had kept on my warm clothes of the night. We 
traveled rapidly by the brilliant starlight and pass- 
ing down the aroyo along which we camped, 
turned down the San Pedro River toward the 
south. We crossed the stream frequently, travel- 
ing in single file. By seven o'clock the sun was 
peering over the hills and I began to shed my 
clothes. By half past eight I retained only my 
thinnest underwear, my pa jama coat, my linen 

142 




»> 




THE LLANOS. HAWK POISED UPON 
AN ORGAN CACTUS 



Some Tropical Financial Morality 

trousers and slippers. By ten o'clock the sun was 
scorching, our great Mexican sombreros alone sav- 
ing us from its fierce rays. Our way lay for 
twenty miles almost due south down the valley of 
the San Pedro, then turning to our left, we fol- 
lowed a slightly-traveled trail, crossing a succes- 
sion of low hills, until after four long hours we 
came to immense plains or llanos stretching flat 
as a table for twenty miles toward the Balsas 
River. The streams were dry, the leaves were 
falling from shrubs and trees. It was the dry 
season. Mesquit and cactus and mimosa were the 
only vegetation, except the blistered stalks of the 
sun-dried grasses. No water was visible anywhere. 
The ground was parched and cracked. A light 
breeze which followed us all day and a few high- 
flying clouds, which now and then hid the sun, 
alone saved us from being almost broiled alive. 
The watch in my pocket became burning hot, I 
could scarcely hold it in my hand; the metal but- 
tons on my clothes almost burned themselves loose ; 
only the dryness of the atmosphere made it possible 
to have made this journey during the day. 

The great llanos, stretching south and south- 
west, were crossed by many well-beaten trails, 
where the horses and cattle, which roam here in 
thousands, have worn the paths they take to reach 
the distant water. It is said that these animals, 

143 



On the Mexican Highlands 

which wander at large, have schooled themselves 
to cross the wide plains beneath the stars in the 
cool of the night. 

We reached the mines of El Puerto about half 
past one o'clock, crossing the plain for several hours 
toward the mountain on whose side the mines are 
perched. The only living things we met upon 
these llanos were the jack rabbits and an occa- 
sional roadrunner, which birds were very* tame. 
Although his rabbitship has attained a reputation 
for lightning leg-velocity upon the sagebrush plains 
of our own far-west, yet surely his Mexican cousin 
has him outclassed. A vaquero, followed by a 
couple of lean and seasoned hounds, had met us 
on the borders of the llanos and kept with us 
almost across the plain. The dogs, despite the 
fact that they must well have known the power 
of the jack rabbit, would often come upon one 
crouched in the grass, and so nearly within their 
reach that they quite forgot their lessons of the 
past, and started full cry upon his trail. It was 
almost laughable to see the hounds' despair, so 
quickly did the rabbits shoot out of sight, quite 
beyond all dog power to keep the pace. The pair 
would regularly return with their tails between 
their legs, the picture of disorganized defeat. 

We have climbed three hundred feet up the 
side of the mountain to a group of open sheds, 

144 



Some Tropical Financial Morality 

thatched with palm leaves, while above us volcanic 
rock masses tower more than two thousand feet. 
Across the river Balsas, apparently rising from the 
water's edge, are the tremendous heights of the 
Cordillera, lifting themselves twelve to thirteen 
thousand feet above the level of the sea. 

The Mina el Puerto is an ancient mine, now 
nearly exhausted; for it has been worked almost 
two hundred years, all through a single doorway 
cut into the rock, barred by a great wooden door, 
fastened by a ponderous lock with a ponderous 
iron key. Each morning, for many decades, the 
owner has taken the key from his belt, unlocked 
the big door and sent fifteen to twenty naked In- 
dians down the "chicken ladders" four hundred 
feet into the hot mines below. There is no venti- 
lation, there are no pumps, there is no other way 
to go in or out. Two or three hours is the longest 
time a man can work at the bottom of this hole; 
when the Indian can stand it no longer he climbs 
up bringing on his back the ore which he has been 
able to dislodge, or a bag of water, if any shall 
have leaked in. By three or four o'clock in the 
afternoon, those who went down have all come 
out again. The ore they have dug is thrown upon 
a pile beneath the palm-thatched roof; the owner 
of the mines then locks the door. When the ore 
pile has been reduced to powder by the hammering 

145 



On the Mexican Highlands 

of many dusky hands, it Is concentrated in the 
wooden troughs, washed with water from the river 
Balsas, three miles away, brought up in bullskin 
sacks upon the backs of mules; and when a suffi- 
cient number of two-hundred-pound bags of con- 
centrated ore have been accumulated, forty or fifty 
mules are tied together neck to tail, loaded with 
the bags and driven almost one hundred miles up 
to the plateau. . These ores have always been par- 
ticularly rich, the gold and silver in them having 
been sufficient to pay the cost of transportation to 
and charges of the smelter, leaving the copper for 
net profit. 

The Mexican owners have lived well from the 
fortune of their mines. In fact, to them copper 
ore in the ground has been equivalent of cash in 
the bank. When they have wanted money they 
have dug into their ore bed. They generally 
smelted it themselves in crude clay furnaces, using 
charcoal burned near at hand. What of gold and 
silver there might be was also run into the copper 
bars and the bars were currency. A pile of bars 
meant rollicking jaunts and roystering junkets. 
The family and friends, the servants and retainers 
were gathered together, muskets and swords, horns 
and mandolins were assembled, horses and pack 
animals were loaded and bestridden, and a tour 
of the surrounding countryside was made. BuU- 

146 



Some Tropical Financial Morality 

fights, cockfights, balls and fandangoes were glori- 
ously enjoyed, duels were fought, hearts were 
stormed and the copper Ingots were blown In even 
to the last ounce. Then the company would re- 
turn, the fast-locked door would again be opened 
and a new supply of copper extracted from the 
mine. Like princes lived these Senores de las 
Minas, so long as the earth yielded up her hidden 
treasure. 

At this particular mine, this sort of thing has 
been going on for a hundred years. Generations 
have come and gone and come again, and the ore 
has not yet given out. But the thrifty ancestors 
so managed It as to pay only the smallest taxes 
to the government. Why should they pay good 
money Into the Itching palm of the distant despots, 
who might for the moment hold supreme power 
In the far-off capital ! The first owner had "de- 
nounced," (I. e. taken up), only half an acre. In 
the middle of this he cut the doorway to the mine. 
His descendants have always paid taxes on that 
half acre ! The government never asked for more. 
Even Diaz was content. So the workings went on, 
and spread and ramified into the many acres sur- 
rounding the single so well-guarded entrance. The 
original half-acre had long years ago been mined 
out. And no one ever entered the mine or knew of 
its depth or latitude except the owner, who took the 

147 



On the Mexican Highlands 

big key from his beh each workday morning and 
opened the ponderous wooden door. The Indians 
dug and sweated and smothered In the hot depths, 
even as their forbears had done. The Castrejon 
family held fast to the big key and enjoyed their 
credit for unbounded riches. La MIna el Puerto 
was a busy place, and its hospitality was equal to 
Its wealth. 

Thus it might have continued to this day, but 
for an accident which happened two or three years 
ago. One stormy night two travelers sought shel- 
ter beneath the Castrejon thatch. In crossing the 
llanos they lost their way and their horse cast his 
shoe. They discerned the light on the mountain 
side and came to It. The courteous lord of the 
mine gave them true Spanish welcome. '*A11 that 
he had was theirs !" They slept In his biggest 
hammocks and ate his fattest poios (chickens). 
The strangers were gringos (Americans) and 
"missionaries" and one spoke excellent Spanish 
and the other smiled. El Senor told them how 
many years he had worked the mine, he and his 
ancestors, and he boasted, just a little, of its wealth. 
In the morning, rested, fed and smiling, they bade 
their gracious host a parting adios as they followed 
his superintendente, who rode with them to the 
main road from which they had strayed. The mine 
as usual worked on. The incident was forgotten. 

148 



Some Tropical Financial Morality 

A few months later, one sultry evening, the grin- 
gos returned and with them a mining Inspector 
of the Mexican government and a company of 
rurales. The Fomento (Department of the In- 
terior) had granted to them all of the mineral 
rights surrounding and outside of the half acre 
which contained the big door. Los Senores de 
Castrejon had never had legal title to any mineral, 
but what lay under that half acre. If ore had been 
taken from outside of that half acre, It had been 
stolen from the government and dire are the pen- 
alties for theft In this land of the iron hand. And 
what ore had been taken from the outside of that 
half acre now belonged to the two strangers. They 
might sue in the courts and recover the full value 
of It and all legal costs. The two Americans were 
very courteous as they explained these matters to 
El Senor. The mining Inspector was there to ex- 
amine the mine and the rurales held In their hands 
repeating rifles of the latest pattern. El Senor was 
a discreet man. He accepted the courteous offer 
of the smiling Americans that they would not 
prosecute, provided he made them a deed for all 
claim he had to the half acre, the big door and 
whatever else he might possess. He was pleased 
to sign the deed. He then mounted his horse — 
they gave him back his horse — and rode away a 
beggar. Next morning the Americans put the big 

149 



On the Mexican Highlands 

key in the door, unlocked it and sent the Indians 
down to their daily toil. The mining inspector re- 
ceived liberal recompense for his trouble and rode 
contentedly back to the Tierra Fria. The rurales 
were induced to remain yet a little while, as a sort 
of protection against unforeseen mishap. 

The new owners remained long enough to place 
a new native superintendente in charge at increased 
salary, and then accompanied the rurales upon their 
return. But los Americanos were themselves gen- 
tlemen who had had to leave the States in rather 
hasty flight, and soon fell into feud among them- 
selves. One, I learn, is now residing in a Mexican 
penitentiary for robbing a brother missionary, and 
the other, having sold his own interest as well as 
that of his partner to uninitiated purchasers in Kan- 
sas, has also disappeared. At the time of our visit 
the mines are in the hands of a receiver of the 
courts, and the Kansas people are endeavoring to 
ascertain just "where they are at." Do you won- 
der, when I tell you that I find throughout all this 
ancient mining region a certain suspicion of visiting 
Americans, even on the part of Mexican owners 
whose titles are beyond a flaw ? 

Saturday. 
Early this morning Tio and I mounted into 
our saddles and with an Indian-Mexican guide 
crossed the llanos to see two quartz veins showing 

150 




VAQUEROS CROSSING THE RIO 
DE LAS BALSAS 



Some Tropical Financial Morality 

copper. The veins are "undenounced," open to 
whosoever may care to take them up. We did the 
unusual thing of going out in the middle of the 
day, and before we returned the fierce sun's heat 
burned almost like flames of fire. I have never 
known anything but fire so to scorch. Even in this 
great heat we passed a hawk poised upon a cactus 
top watching for his prey and seemingly wholly 
unmindful of the terror of the sun. 

After our siesta, we loaded the two pack beasts, 
saddled our riding animals and, about four o'clock 
in the afternoon, set out for the river Balsas, two 
miles to the south, and to the little town of Chur- 
muco on its banks. From the mountain side we 
took a last look over the wide expanse of the 
llanos, extending twenty or thirty miles toward the 
west, as level as a floor, the blue line of the Cor- 
dilleras marking the horizon far beyond. 

We passed through several prehistoric, Indian 
towns. Their streets were laid out with regularity, 
generally at right angles, the foundations of the 
ancient houses still plainly showing. In many 
places, the base walls were intact and constructed 
of rounded bowlders laid carefully, in a row, upon 
one another in substantial tiers. 

The rich bottom land along the river, wholly 
uncultivated, much impressed me. The soil, a 
black and chocolate loam, is capable of bearing any 



On the Mexican Highlands 

crop, and is twenty to thirty feet in thickness. 
There was no cultivation anywhere. These lands 
belong to some mighty hacienda (a hacienda con- 
tains often from one hundred thousand to two mil- 
lion acres) owned by some absentee haciendado. 
It is said to be worth about ten cents (Mexican) 
per acre ! 

The river Balsas looks as broad as Elk River 
in West Virginia, where it enters the Kanawha 
(four or five hundred feet in width). It is now 
the dry season, but, nevertheless, the river is swift 
and deep, a tide of clear blue water too swift and 
too deep to ford or swim. In the rainy season it 
must be a boisterous mighty stream, for its fall is 
rapid. In the dry season it is fed by the melting 
snow fields of Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl far 
to the east. The stream is said to afford good fish- 
ing, and in it veritable crocodiles (Cayman) 
abound. 

Approaching the river, we found ourselves at 
a primitive ferry where two wild-looking vaqueros 
were about to cross. Availing ourselves of this 
opportunity to voyage upon the Balsas — Mexico's 
greatest river — we tied our horses in the shade of 
a friendly mimosa and climbed aboard the craft 
used as a ferryboat — a sharp pointed scow which 
is entered at the stern. The two Indian boatmen 
pulled each a ponderous blade, but despite their 

152 



Some Tropical Financial Morality 

most strenuous efforts, the powerful current carried 
us down quite half a mile before we landed upon 
the farther shore — a wide bar of sand and pebbles. 
Our fellow passengers eyed us In suspicious silence, 
each holding fast his broncho lest it should jump 
out, their wild dark glances betokening little friend- 
liness. Reaching the shore each silently swung 
Into his saddle and galloped off toward the not 
far distant Cordillera. These silent, untamed men 
traverse this desolate country everywhere, keeping 
constant track of the thousands of cattle and horses 
which roam their wastes ; and the Indians of Guer- 
rero bear the name of being the most turbulent 
and treacherous of all Mexico. 

Recrossing, we traveled for an hour through 
rich and uncultivated bottom lands along the riv- 
er's course, until we came to the primitive town 
of Churumuco, a hamlet occupied by Indians only, 
an Indian priest gazing out of the dilapidated 
church as we rode by. Here we found a fonda 
(inn) with ample corral. A half-caste Spanish- 
Indian woman, '^Senora Dona Faustina," cooked 
us a supper of potatoes, rice, tortillas, and chilis 
(peppers) stewed In cheese, substantial which 
were washed down with clear hot coffee. Here, 
In the Intense heat, the burning peppers were viv- 
ifying and we ate them greedily* 

We slept on native mats set on frames three 

153 



On the Mexican Highlands 

feet above the adoby floor In the open patio. Pigs, 
cats, chickens, dogs and children scrambled be- 
neath. 

We were just rolling up in our blankets, when 
Dona Faustina excitedly addressed my companions, 
Tio and El Padre, and I gathered from her speech 
that chinchas, as long as your hand, had a habit of 
crawling along the rafters and dropping upon the 
unsuspecting sleeper, while, unless your shoes were 
hung above the floor, tiernanes (scorpions) were 
likely to camp in them until dislodged. I hung 
my slippers above the tiernanes stinging reach and 
lay awake apprehending the chinchas^ descent, but 
the fatigue and heat of the day, the soporific influ- 
ences of chilis and cheese, soon wrapped me in a 
slumber from which only the braying of our white 
pkck mule at last aroused me, as Izus cinched upon 
him the burden for another day. The night was 
warm and close, the first dull, heavy air I have 
known in Mexico. We were now actually in the 
Tierra Calient e — ^where, the saying is, "the in- 
habitants of Churmuco need never go to hell since 
they already live there." 

It was not yet three o'clock in the morning and 
still dark. Ros and poios and coffee were already 
prepared for us. ^^Adios, Doha Faustina!'* 
''Jdios, SehoritaF' ^^Jdios, SenoresF '^ A dies, 
adiosT' and we trotted out of the corral and, turn- 




THE LANDING, RIO DE LAS BALSAS 



Some Tropical Financial Morality 

ing northward, moved up a deeply-cut baranca 
over a more generally traveled trail than that by 
which we had come. The coldness of night no 
longer chilled us, the air was almost warm, while 
no sign of day made mark upon the heavens above 
us; the black spaces of the night were yet ablaze 
with great white stars. The constellations to the 
northward I well knew, but to the south there were 
many wholly new and, supremest of them all, just 
clinging along the gigantic mountain summits, 
shone the splendid constellation of the Southern 
Cross, my first glimpse of it. We reined in 
our horses, turned and watched the big lustrous 
stars descend and disappear behind the impene- 
trable curtain of the Cordillera's towering chain. 
The Balsas River was now behind us. The 
baranca we ascended widened out. We were upon 
the well-beaten track of travel from Guerrero, and 
even Acapulco, to the north. Ere the sun came 
blazing up, we were many miles on our way. And 
well for us it was so, for the day's heat has been 
the most terrible I have yet endured. The animals 
did not sweat, nor did we, the air was too dry 
for that, but my blood boiled, my bones baked, and 
my skin parched from the fierce hotness of the sun. 
Even the cowboys we here and there encountered 
sat silent in their saddles beneath the mimosa's and 
mesquit's thickest shade. 

155 



On the Mexican Highlands 

The land was desolate, with no habitations save 
here and there a solitary rancho or wayside resting 
place, where passing travelers might find rough 
lodgment and perhaps food for themselves and 
beasts. The only sound was the droning whir of 
millions of cicadas. 

It was nearly midday when we reached the 
grateful shelter of La Mina Noria, there to tarry 
and revive until we should fare on in the cooler 
evening hours. 



156 



XIV 

Wayside Incidents in the Land of Heat 

MiNA NORIA TO PaTZCUARO, 

December 8th-10ih. 

Later in the day we were ascending the San 
Pedro valley toward the Hacienda Cuyaco. It 
was just growing dusk when we heard the music 
of violins. We came upon an Indian habitation 
of two buildings connected by a wide, thatched 
veranda. Here, upon the veranda, several dark- 
faced youths were playing a slow-timed Spanish 
fandango, and twenty or more young girls, ar- 
ranged in rows of fours, were taking steps to the 
music, swaying their bodies and shaking small 
gourds, filled with pebbles, for castanets. The en- 
thusiasm of the musicians, the soberness and grav- 
ity and grace of the dancers, as they stepped and 
postured, made a charming picture. They were 
gowned in white, with flowers in their black hair, 
and they danced with easy dignity. We halted 
our horses and watched the grave company, no one 
paying the slightest heed to our presence, other- 



On the Mexican Highlands 

wise than to acknowledge our '^Buenas Dtas** and 
parting ''Adios/^ 

By the time the night came down upon us, we 
were far upon the road. Just at the moment of 
the falling darkness, we met a band of Indians 
with their burros. They had halted. Each Indian 
had doffed his sombrero. One Indian kneeling, 
was crossing himself. They were facing a small 
rough cross rising from a pile of stones. Each 
threw one more stone upon the pile, crossed him- 
self, bent his knee, and moved on. It was a spot 
where death has met some traveler. The cross 
sanctifies the place. The stones permanently mark 
it and, year by year, the pile grows bigger from 
the constant contribution of the one stone added 
by each passing traveler. 

The night found us at a primitive Indian shel- 
ter; a thatched roof above an earthern clay stove. 
In the corral several droves of pack mules had 
already been unburdened for the night. Beneath 
the thatch the drivers were wrapped in their 
zerapes and slept profoundly. We unrolled our 
cots, set them out beneath the stars and fell asleep, 
even as we were. By two o'clock we were awak- 
ened before the others were astir. We made cups 
of coffee from the hot water on the stove where 
the smouldering fire lingered through the night, 
and were in our saddles before the Southern Cross 

158 



Wayside Incidents in the Land of Heat 

had sunk from view. We were to make a great 
day's ride, pressing on even to Ario, if that were 
possible, twenty- four leagues away (sixty miles) 
and five thousand feet above us in the air. Should 
we be able to do it? 

By eight o'clock we reached the Rancho 
Cuyaco and stopped to obtain delicious cups of 
chocolate and all the oranges and bananas we could 
eat. The cup of chocolate prepared by the Mex- 
ican is a delightful drink. Each cup is made sepa- 
rately. The chocolate bean is pounded in a mortar 
and just enough of the vanilla bean, which here 
grows abundantly, is compounded with it to give 
it an exquisite flavor. The chocolate is thick and 
creamy, and if you would have your cup re- 
plenished, another ten minutes must elapse before 
you get it. No beverage is so refreshing to the 
traveler as a cup of this delicious chocolate. 

By nine o'clock we crossed again the river La 
Playa, passed the Rancho of that name and began 
the great ascent toward the Tierra Fria. I started 
in slippers and linen trousers and thin pajama coat. 
Half way up the five thousand feet, I put on my 
woolen jersey; by noon we were traversing the 
forests of pine and oak near Rancho Nuevo and 
shivering from cold. There, heavy shoes and 
warm corduroys were donned. We forgot that 



On the Mexican Highlands 

five hours before we were burning and baking in 
the torrid heats a mile below. 

At Rancho Nuevo we found ourselves preceded 
by an aristocratic company of ladies and gentlemen 
from the distant region of La Union, near the 
Pacific, — three senores and two senoras, with a 
number of Indian attendants. They rode fine 
horses, and their saddles and trappings were of the 
most sumptuous Mexican make. The head of the 
company was an elderly man with white hair and 
white beard, an haciendado of Importance. He 
wore narrow-pointed, tan-leather shoes; his legs 
were encased in high leathern leggings reaching 
above the knees; his trousers were tight-fitting, 
laced with silver cords and marked with silver but- 
tons along the sides; a soft white linen shirt was 
fastened loosely at the throat with a black silk 
scarf, and a short black velvet vest and a velvet 
jacket with silver buttons and much silver braid, 
completed the costume. His high felt sombrero, 
gray in color, bore upon the right side a big silver 
monogram. About his waist a leathern belt sup- 
ported pistols, and great spurs clanked at either 
heel. The other two cahalleros were clad and 
armed in like fashion. The ladies wore long rid- 
ing habits which they held up with both hands 
when they walked about. There were some fine 
rings on the fingers of the elder woman, the 

1 60 



Wayside Incidents in the Land of Heat 

younger one wearing large hoop-rings in her ears, 
while a diamond flashed upon her left hand. 
Their saddles were like chairs, upon which they 
sat sidewise, resting both feet upon a wooden rail. 
I did not make out whether they themselves guided 
their animals with the reins, or whether these were 
led by the long halter lines with which the bridles 
were fitted out. When we arrived, the kitchen was 
astir preparing dinner for these guests. Mean- 
time, the ladies stretched themselves out upon the 
wooden benches for their noon siesta and the men 
stood about in groups watching us with suspicious 
mien. The truth is, the Mexicans of the better 
class look upon Americans with great doubt. So 
many Americans have left their native country, 
for their country's good ; so many American scoun- 
drels have preyed upon the hospitality of Mexican 
hosts, that the Mexican of to-day has learned to 
require letters of introduction before he shows the 
stranger American the courtesy, which it is racially 
instinctive for him to bestow. 

The company first arrived, ate, repacked, 
mounted and fared on some time ahead of us, al- 
though we hastened our own departure, cutting 
short the midday interval of rest, in order that we 
might reach Ario ere night should fall. 

During the last few days I have ridden my 
mule without the incumbrance of the frightful bit 
II l6l 



On the Mexican Highlands 

and bridle, with which he was at start equipped, 
guiding him with halter alone, and I have found 
him all the better pace maker. He is black in 
color, above the average in size, and of that su- 
perior strain for which Spain and Mexico have 
long been famous, the high-bred riding mule. He 
has proved worthy of his trust, for during this 
entire journey he has never once stumbled nor 
made one false step, however rough the way or 
precipitous the declivity along which we have 
passed. To-day, near the journey's end, he is the 
superior beast of the whole company, although at 
the start I was doubtful of my mount. This after- 
noon I have lent him to Tio, whose heavy bulk 
has galled the back of his mare. I have exchanged 
my lighter weight to this unhappy animal, whose 
sores will never be allowed to heal, and which will 
be ridden by successive travelers until wearied and 
harried to its death. 

It was barely day-end when the white walls of 
Ario looked down upon us from the slopes above, 
and we were welcomed by our host of the Hotel 
Morelos with the warmth of an old friend. He 
was particularly cordial toward Tio, and I now 
witnessed, in all its perfection, the embrace of old 
acquaintance, which is the particular mark of re- 
gard among the Mexicans. Our host and Tio 
grasped their right hands and shook them cordially, 

162 



Wayside Incidents in the Land of Heat 

then with hands still clasped each drew toward the 
other, looked over the other's left shoulder and 
clapped him several percussive slaps upon the back. 
This process was repeated at intervals several times 
until finally the two fell apart with many bows of 
profound esteem. I sat one morning on the Plaza 
Grande, before the great cathedral in Mexico City, 
and watched two casual acquaintance thus greet 
each other; first, they shook hands, then they em- 
braced, then they shook hands again, and every few 
minutes repeated the handshake and embrace dur- 
ing the lengthy conversation, each thereby seeming 
to assure the other that he was really the friend he 
made himself out to be. 

We had indeed arrived at Ario. We had made 
a great ride since early dawn, had been more than 
ten hours in the saddle, traveling some sixty miles 
and ascending five thousand and four hundred feet ! 
El Padre and myself first entered the narrow 
streets, a little later came our mozo, Izus, driving 
before him our pack animals, and half an hour 
behind him came Tio and my mule. He declared 
the animal to be almost dead and we feared it 
might be so, but the next morning, when we made 
ready to start out again, we found his mule-ship, 
as also the horses, in perfect fettle, as though no 
long sweltering journey and monstrous climb had 
been the toil of the yesterday. 

163 



On the Mexican Highlands 

The air of the highlands was fresh and keen. 
Its tonic was so invigorating that we forgot fa- 
tigue, and made the journey to Santa Clara and 
Patzcuaro as easily as when we first set out. 

On these highlands thousands of sheep are 
raised, and I was interested to note that of the 
considerable flocks we saw grazing upon the wide 
pasture lands along our road, the majority were 
black. This is said to be the result of Mexican 
neglect. The white sheep is the work of art. 
Flocks are kept white by weeding out the black, 
but just as hogs when let run wild will revert to the 
stronger color, so, too, the flocks of Mexico, Inas- 
much as they have been wholly neglected from the 
day when Spanish mastership was destroyed, have 
reverted to the hardier hue, until to-day the larger 
percentage are black. To destroy these black 
sheep now would bring too great a loss. 

In a land like this, where the horse and the 
mule and the burro, as well as man, are the chief 
means of transport, one is continually surprised at 
the heavy burdens borne, and the skill and care 
with which the loads are carried. A piano is taken 
apart, packed upon a train of mules and taken to 
a distant village or hacienda. Elegant and fragile 
furniture, made in France or other continental 
countries, is thus conveyed. In every community 
there are expert cabinetmakers, who can repair and 

164 



Wayside Incidents in the Land of Heat 

put together the most expensive furniture, and who 
do the work so deftly that it is even stronger than 
when originally made. 

There is no burden that a single Indian, or a 
couple of Indians, or a dozen Indians, will not 
bear upon their shoulders to any point or any dis- 
tance you may name. These loads and burdens 
are carried with a care and safety that might be a 
lesson to the baggage-smashers and freight-break- 
ers of our modern railways. 

When we drew near Patzcuaro, we overtook 
multitudes of Indians, men, women and children, 
all journeying in the same direction as ourselves. 
Upon inquiry, we learned that they were traveling 
to Patzcuaro there to take part in the fiesta cele- 
bration held in honor of Our Lady of Guadaloupe, 
the patron-saint of Mexico, the Indian Madonna, 
whom the swarthy citizens of the republic adore. 
The nearer we approached the city, the greater the 
press of peones filling the roadways which lead to 
it. In the town the streets were thronged with 
these strange, wild people — Tarascon Indians most 
of them — many having saved up through all the 
year for this occasion, and now come here to blow 
In their scanty hoards in one single week. A thou- 
sand games of chance were in full blast. All sorts 
of schemes were being cried, every one of them 
calculated to rob the pious Indian of his uttermost 

i6s 



On the Mexican Highlands 

centavo. Along the curbs hundreds of little char» 
coal fires were lit, where food was roasting over 
braziers. Men were walking through the streets 
with pigskin sacks of pulque on their backs and a 
gourd cup in hand, crying "only a centavo for a 
drink!" Dulce boys were carrying upon their 
heads large baskets of guava sweetmeats and can- 
died fruits. Bakers went by with rings of bread 
about their necks and small rings of bread brace- 
leted upon their arms. In the churches a continu- 
ous service is kept going all through the day and 
night, and the pious gambler of the plaza has full 
opportunity to rob the peon and enrich the church. 
Along the wayside, groups of Indians are squat- 
ting, exchanging gossip ; hundreds of men are lean- 
ing against the walls, wherever the shade gives 
refuge from the sun, silent and wrapped in bright- 
hued zerapes, seeing all, but saying never a word. 
At the Fonda Diligencia, next the big church, a 
company of gentlemen of fortune from Mexico 
City, clad in dress suits and stovepipe hats, have 
opened handsome games of Cahallos and Rouge 
et Noir, and about these are gathered the Dons 
and Donas of the town. I see a priest step to the 
table, put down his money and make a win; a 
venturesome Indian, who has eyed the padre ques- 
tioningly, now reassured, also steps up, puts down 
a few centavos and loses all ! 

1 66 




STREET SCENE— PATZCUARO 



Wayside Incidents in the Land of Heat 

We rest again at the Hotel Concordia. We 
find our room where our baggage has been safely 
stored. We take off our corduroys and put on 
fresh linen and appear again dressed just as we 
might be when at home. Izus is sorry to say good- 
bye. We add one half to his pay for his efficient 
service, and I present him with my large bowie 
knife to his delight. I offer him a double price 
for the fine fighting cock he has brought from 
Noria, but this he will not give up. He has a 
neighbor whose chicken killed his own some 
months ago. He has now found a bird which will 
give him sweet revenge and as to selling it, money 
has no value in his eyes ! 



167 



XV 

Morelia — The Capital of the State of 

Michoacan — Her Streets — Her Parks 

— Her Churches — Her Music 

Morelia, State of Michoacan, Mexico, 

December 1 2th. 

The Congress of the great State of Michoa- 
can, as big a state as ten West Virginias, with a 
population of six hundred and fifty thousand, is 
in session at the State capital, Morelia. It meets 
three times a week in the Palace. A learned mem- 
ber of the bar and a member of Congress, escorted 
me to the dignified body, and formally introduced 
me as '^Senor Licenciado Eduardos, del Estado de 
*Quest Verhinia,* de los Estados Unidos del 
Norte!' All the members arose to receive me. 
There is only one chamber. Its fourteen members 
make all the laws for Michoacan, always subject 
to the approval of President Diaz in Mexico City. 
Diaz decides who shall be the fourteen members. 
He instructs the Governor of the State to have 
elected the fourteen men whom he names, and 
those fourteen are always chosen, and no others. 

i68 



Morelia 

President Diaz also says who shall be elected Gov- 
ernors of the different States, and they are always 
elected. 

After this Congress had saluted me and. I had 
bowed in response, we all sat down in the hand- 
some room. The fourteen were mostly small dark 
men with good heads. The President of the Con- 
gress was an old man with white hair, a wrinkled 
face and long white mustachios. He did most of 
the talking on all measures. He kept his seat 
while he talked. The first business before the Con- 
gress was "Reports of Committees." Each mem- 
ber was a whole committee. Each committee made 
a report, and stood up, facing the President to 
make it. The chief matter under consideration 
was a railroad concession to Americans, involving 
a land grant of thousands of acres. The Congress 
will grant it because President Diaz says the rail- 
road should have it. After an hour or more of 
talking, the Congress adjourned. The members 
canae up and were introduced. I shook hands sev- 
eral times with each member and still more often 
with the President. 

Adjoining the hall of Congress were several 
large rooms, the walls hung with portraits of the 
great men of Michoacan, who helped to make 
Mexico free, and who helped to destroy Maxi- 
milian. This fine city of thirty-five thousand peo- 

169 



On the Mexican Highlands 

pie was formerly called Valladolld. But when the 
Spaniards shot the patriot, Morelos, ignominiously 
in the back, the people changed its name to Mo- 
relia, — for Morelos was their fellow-townsman, — 
and they clanged the church bells and made bon- 
fires and illuminated their houses when the last 
Spanish Viceroy was driven from the land. 

The senor by whom I had the honor of being 
introduced to the Congress, I afterward had the 
pleasure of meeting more intimately in his law 
office, Senor Don Licenciado Vicente Garcia, Sen- 
ator, Judge, Counselor of State, and Lawyer pro- 
foundly versed in the curious learning of Spanish- 
Mexican law. He is a gentleman of the Old 
School, a cultivated Mexican of that small class 
among whom have been continuously preserved 
scholarship and learning, since the earliest advent 
of the few Doctors of the Law, who accompanied 
the first Viceroys to New Spain. Men ripe in 
mediaeval scholarship, apart from the teachings 
and doctrines of the Canon Law, they have always 
formed a distinct class in Mexico, even as in Old 
Spain, and have jealously cherished that seed of in- 
tellectual independence from which has successfully 
developed the opposition of the State to the inces- 
sant and covert encroachment of the Roman 
Church. 

In Senor Garcia's library of well stored shelves 
170 



Morella 

I noted many curious and ancient vellum-leaved 
tomes, containing some of the earliest printed codes 
of Mexican law, as well as treatises in French upon 
the Napoleonic Code, and there were some few de- 
cisions, in French, of the Courts of Louisiana. 
There was also a Blackstone in English and a few 
newly bound law treatises in that tongue, — vol- 
umes belonging to his son, he said, who was taking 
a special course in English in the University of 
fhe State. 

Don Licenciado Garcia is a short-set man with 
whitening hair and gray moustache and intellectual 
face. You at once know him to be the student and 
the scholar, although with dark glasses screening 
his eyes, he pathetically informed us that he was 
fast growing blind. Indeed, he can no longer see 
to write or read, but employs a reader and trusts 
to his son for all correspondence, thus conducting 
his large practice with eyes and hands other than 
his own. We found him a busy man, for in Mex- 
ico the courts are perpetually in session, and a case 
once on the docket is liable to be called at any time. 
There are many such men in the Mexican Re- 
public as Senor Garcia, and to them must really be 
credited much of the conservative disposition of 
the government. They are the conservators of 
scholarly liberalism, and form a community of in- 
telligence and learning upon whom President Diaz 

171 



On the Mexican Highlands 

can always rely to give assistance and direction in 
sustaining and preserving the stability of the Re- 
public. 

Morella is a city older than any city of the 
United States. Its streets were paved before Bos- 
ton was out of the swamps, and before Richmond 
was thought of. All Mexican cities are paved, 
every street, every alley. A great aqueduct, built 
on Immense arches, brings an abundant supply of 
sweet, fresh water. There are many beautiful 
parks in these Mexican cities, all kept In perfect 
order at municipal expense. In them, flowering 
shrubs, roses, geraniums and heliotropes, grown to 
veritable trees, are ever in bloom ; there are orange 
and lemon, pomegranate and fig, palm and banana 
trees; there are statues and flowing fountains, and 
great carved stone seats, all free to the people. 

There is plenty of flowing water on these high 
tablelands, and already Its power, harnessed to the 
turbine and dynamo. Is giving the people free 
electric lights. The Mexican towns and the city 
governments are run for the benefit of the people. 
There are no monopolies. If President Diaz hears 
that a mayor, a city council, or a Congress is not 
running things as he judges they should, he just 
hints to the gentleman to resign. If he does not 
comply, a polite invitation requests him to come 
to the Capital and dine with the President. If he 

172 



Morelia 

IS not hungry and falls to come, then a few soldiers 
(numbering in one case a small army), come down 
and politely escort the gentleman to the dinner. 
He may be shot, he may be permitted to live 
quietly somewhere In the President's city with a 
soldier for a life companion, — but he never goes 
home. An Ex-governor of the State of Guerrero 
has been living In Mexico City, with a soldier for 
a chum, these twenty years ! 

Mexican cities are clean. A man who does n*t 
sweep his sidewalk, who disobeys a notice to keep 
It clean, may wake up In jail. There Is no ^'habeas 
corpus'^ In Mexico. Once In jail, a man may stay 
there a lifetime. And Mexican jails are not pleas- 
ant places wherein long to abide. 

Each State Is divided Into Distritos, corre- 
sponding to our counties. Each Distrito, Instead 
of having a county court as do our West Virginia 
counties, has a Jefe Politico (Political Chief) ap- 
pointed by the Governor. He keeps the peace, he 
runs the county. If he Is a bad man, the Governor 
with the approval of President Diaz, may have the 
Jefe removed or shot. The Jefe ("Hefy") within 
his Distrito has the power of life and death. If 
a citizen raises ''too much hell" In his precinct, 
the first thing he knows he is taken out In the 
woods by a band of rurales — (rural police) — and 
promptly shot, and he Is burled where he falls. 

173 



On the Mexican Highlands 

A man thus arrested and shot Is said to have "tried 
to escape and been shot while escaping." No 
questions are asked. The Jefe rules his Distrito 
with a hand of steel in a glove of velvet, just as 
President Diaz rules the nation. 

Mexico has an able, Intelligent, If arbitrary 
government. She Is awake. She Is progressive. 
I have been amazed at the wealth and beauty, the 
cleanliness and comfort of her towns and cities, 
at the splendor of her capital, at the fertility and 
variety of her soils and climates, — the perpetual 
spring of Ario and Morella and Toluca and Mex- 
ico City, — the eternal summer and tropical heats 
of the lowlands of the Tierra Caliente, while be- 
tween the lofty highlands and the lowlands lie the 
temperate levels, the Tierra Templada, where are 
climates ranging from those of Cuba to Quebec. 

Three hundred years ago Spanish civilization 
was ahead of that of England and Germany. But 
Spain and her colonies stood still. To-day our 
Teutonic peoples are in the lead. Progressive 
Mexicans, who have no love for Spain, know this, 
and are fast learning what we have to teach. 

No one thing has pleased me more In this splen- 
did, opulent country than to discover that every- 
where men are eager to learn the American tongue. 
That language Is taught in all public schools, In 
all the colleges. It is the hope and pride of every 

174 



Morelia 

man of means to have his son able to speak Eng- 
lish. In fifty years, or less, English will have 
largely driven out the Spanish speech, and none 
are more eager for this result than the progressive 
ruling men of Mexico. 

Morelia has much civic pride, and above all 
else she Is proud of her music ; proud of her bands. 
Once a year the musical Morelianos have a compe- 
tition among themselves, and the band declared 
the winner is sent to Mexico City to contest with 
bands from other cities for the musical pre-emi- 
nence of the Republic. Great Interest is taken In 
these musical contests. For several years the 
champion band of Morelia has carried off the 
national prize. To play in the band is a mark of 
distinction, and the band leader is a local dignitary. 
The chief band plays in the plaza throughout each 
afternoon. This park is filled with fine trees, with 
many flowers, and has several fountains and com- 
fortable seats, where you may sit and listen to the 
plash of the tinkling waters and the moving mel- 
odies of the band. These seats are free to all. 
Then, too, there are chairs for which the city sells 
the privilege, and the chairs are rented for cinco 
centavos (five cents Mexican, equal to about two 
cents United States) per hour, for a plain rough- 
bottom chair; vicenti-cinco centavos (twenty-five 
cents Mexican) for a big chair with arms. You 



On the Mexican Highlands 

pay your money, you sit in your chair and enjoy 
the music as long as you care to listen. Poor peones 
sit on the free benches; those who have the few 
centavos to spare rent a plain chair. The rich 
merchants and haciendados rent the big chairs, and 
sit there with their families gossiping and applaud- 
ing the music and watching the circling throngs 
who walk around the square. The senoritas, three 
or four abreast, with chaperons, walk on the inside 
of the broad pavement. The dashing cahalleros 
and rancherros, the dudes and the beaux, in their 
bravest adornment, walk three or four abreast in 
the other direction on the outside. Young gentle- 
men may never speak to young ladies upon the 
streets, but they dart burning glances at them, and 
the black eyes of the senoritas are not slow in their 
response. 

I spent one morning viewing the markets and 
watching the city life on the streets. In Mexico 
your social standing is marked by the shoeing of 
your feet, the covering of your head; your boots 
and your hats are the two things a Mexican first 
looks at when approaching you. The Mexican 
loves to thrust his feet into long, narrow toothpick- 
pointed shoes ; the smaller and daintier the happier 
he is. For a hat, the costly sombrero, for which 
fifty to one hundred dollars are often paid, covers 
the man of means ; sometimes a hat may cost twice 

176 



Morelia 

this sum. It may be of felt, or of expensive 
braided straw with a band of woven gold or silver 
threads about the crown. Generally, a large gold 
or silver monogram several Inches high Is on one 
side. I wore a pair of broad-soled, oil-dressed 
walking shoes, with big eyelet holes for the laces. 
Substantial and comfortable, they would have been 
quite correct In the States, but the passing throngs 
upon the streets stared with frank perplexity at 
these, to them, extraordinary shoes. My sturdy 
foot gear became the comment of the town. As I 
sat In the park In the afternoon, several groups 
of the young and fashionable came up, and paus- 
ing, gazed intently at my novel footwear. My 
hat, a comfortable slouch of the trooper type, also 
seemed to them of wonderfully little cost — *'Only 
five dollars for a hat!" ^'Ciertamente\ El Senor 
must have paid more than that!" The American 
trousers, not fitting tightly to the leg, were also re- 
marked. It is complained, that the young men of 
wealthy Mexican families, who are now attending 
Cornell and Harvard and Yale, instead of going 
to old Spain or to France, return in these American 
clothes, and insist upon wearing these loose Amer- 
ican trousers to the scandal of conservative fashion. 
Among the ladles, however, the American hat has 
not yet conquered the mantilla, and for this I have 
been thankful. The graceful mantilla is so at- 
12 177 



On the Mexican Highlands 

tractive and sits so daintily about the black-braided 
brow of the senora and the sehorita who pass 
you by I 

It is against the laws of Mexico for the relig- 
ious orders any longer to live within the Republic, 
but at Morelia there are said to be several of these 
orders existing clandestinely. A group of ladies, 
whom we met at the station of departure, all 
quietly gowned in black, wearing black tapalos — 
like a rehoso but of more costly material — about 
their heads, were pointed out to me as a suhrosa 
company of nuns. 

Morelia is the seat of an Archbishop. The 
cathedral is a beautiful duplicate of that of Valle- 
dolid, in old Spain. It is kept in perfect repair. 
Within, it is resplendent with gold and silver and 
richly colored walls and roof. It possesses many 
beautiful statues of the saints and one of the finest 
organs in the world. The rich Archbishop is said 
to be worth more than six millions of dollars 
(Mexican). He is said to own thousands of fer- 
tile acres of the best lands in the State of Mich- 
oacan. (All of this worldly wealth the Archbishop 
holds suhrosa, contrary to the letter of the law.) 

There are several hundred churches in Morelia. 
Here Roman Ecclesiasticism looms large and 
makes itself attractive to the people. We attended 
a night special celebration of the Mass in a fine, 

178 



Morelia 

large church, dedicated to Niiestra Senora de 
Guadelupe. The church within and without was 
Illuminated with thousands of electric lights. A 
full orchestra was employed, violins, cellos and 
mandolins, flutes, cornets, horns and trombones, a 
fine organ as well as a piano, while several hun- 
dred men and boys cassock-clad, chanted and sang 
in wonderful harmony with the exquisite orches- 
tral music. Many of the voices revealed the high- 
est cultivation, and some of the male sopranos rose 
strong and sweet and clear as the tones of a Nor- 
dlca. 

As we stood near the portal of the church, 
listening to the music and watching the multitude 
of worshipers, an Indian, wild as the Cordilleras 
of Guerrero, whence he came, timidly entered and 
paused in the marble portal as one transfixed. His 
hard, rough feet were without sandals. His red 
zerape hung in shreds over his tattered, once white 
garments. His shock of black hair had never 
known a comb ; and even though at last he doffed 
his sombrero, it was some moments before he pulled 
it off. He came from the outer darkness. He 
stood in the blazing glare of the thousand lights, 
forgetting to cross himself, listening to the mighty 
melody of the great chorus and many instruments, 
staring at the brilliant scene. His eyes grew large, 
his face stiffened, his breast heaved. He conceived 

179 



On the Mexican Highlands 

himself transported to Paradise! My Protestant 
missionary friend watched him as did I, and then 
turning to me, observed, "Can you wonder that the 
Protestant missionary is not in it, when he under- 
takes to compete with the sumptuous splendor and 
organized magnificence of ritual and edifice in 
the Roman Church? Our only chance is to open 
schools for the children, take them young and in- 
struct them early, and then, perhaps, when they 
grow up, some few of them may have learned to 
adhere to the simple doctrine and plain practice 
of our Protestant teaching." 

The Jesuits here sustain the fine college of San 
Nicholas for men, where Hidalgo once taught and 
Morelos learned, and which, founded in 1540, 
boasts that it is the oldest institution of learning in 
the Americas. The Jesuits also maintain a large 
school for young women. They are endeavoring 
to resist the tide of progress which is so fast Amer- 
icanizing the land. But even here the upgrowing 
generations are giving steadily increasing support 
to the policies of the enlightened and liberal men 
now guiding the destinies of the Republic. 



180 




A WILD OTOME IN FLIGHT FROM 
MY KODAK 



XVI 

Morelia and Toluca— The Markets — The 
Colleges— The Schools— The An- 
cient and the Modern Spirit 

Toluca, Estado de Mexico, Mexico, 

December 14th. 

Yesterday afternoon at four oVlock I left Mo- 
relia by the National Railroad and reached here 
at three o'clock in the morning. Tio continued on 
to Mexico City, but I stopped over to spend the 
day with my friend, El Padre, the missionary, who 
has been one of our party to the Tierra Caliente, 

From my hotel Jardin, in Morelia, I rode down 
to the station in a most ancient little car pulled by 
a single mule; the electric tramway has not yet 
arrived at that capital. 

It was yet dark when I was awakened for 
Toluca. When I left the train the air was cold, 
frosty. The city was silent, but it was well lighted 
with electricity, and a modern electric tram car 
awaited me at the station. Toluca thus gave me 
at the hour of my night arrival the impression of 

181 



On the Mexican Highlands 

being more modern than Morelia, and this impres- 
sion was borne out upon later acquaintance. 

Toluca is one of the more vigorous of the grow- 
ing cities of the republic. It is a community of 
some twenty-five thousand people, the capital of 
the State of Mexico, and lies one thousand feet 
higher in the air than Mexico City. It is near the 
center of a fertile valley, forty or fifty miles in 
length, and ten to twenty broad, while ten miles 
to the southwest towers the snow-capped Volcano 
de Toluca, lifting its gleaming cone fifteen thou- 
sand feet into the heavens, its melting snows giving 
an abundant supply of pure water to the town. 

The religious differentiation between Toluca and 
Morelia is marked. Morelia is one of the six 
cathedral cities of Mexico, and is the seat of one 
of the six Archbishops. Morelia is also the center 
of Jesuit activity in Mexico. In Morelia, the Span- 
ish-Mexican takes off his sombrero v/hen he passes 
the cathedral ; the Indian kneels down in the street 
and crosses himself. The several hundred churches 
are kept in excellent repair. Ecclesiasticism dom- 
inates, the layman Is subordinate. In Toluca, on 
the contrary. Church rule Is pushed aside; while 
there are a number of churches, they are old and 
most of them dilapidated. The foundations of a 
great cathedral, laid many years ago, are now 
overgrown with grass and bushes. No money has 

182 



Morelia and Toluca 

been forthcoming from Tolucan pockets to build 
it up. The governor of Toluca is among the most 
progressive and liberal men of the republic. His 
administration maintains large schools and acad- 
emies for the instruction of young men and women, 
where the sciences are taught, where enlightened 
thought rules, and where particular attention is paid 
to the English language and literature. Several of 
the instructors are from Chicago. 

There are many fine residences in Toluca, with 
handsome private grounds. The public buildings 
are new and imposing ; the Alameda Park, with its 
groves and gardens and multitudes of birds, is as 
beautiful as Chapultepec. 

There is also great business activity in Toluca 
and a number of successful manufactures. 

The morning of my visit, I noticed an unusual 
crowd upon the streets. It surged toward me. It 
was respectful and quiet. The swarthy company 
were pressing to look wonderingly upon two little 
Swedish girls, with the bluest eyes and pinkest 
cheeks, and braids of the most golden hair — per- 
fect types of the Scandinavian North. They were 
the children of workmen imported from Sweden 
and now teaching Tolucans the skilled manufacture 
of iron. 

The rich valley, with its climate of perpetual 
spring, is the home of a large Aztec and Otomy 

183 



On the Mexican Highlands 

Indian population. These live in many towns built 
of stone and adoby, containing two and three thou- 
sand souls, even yet speaking their ancient Aztec 
tongue, knowing only Spanish enough to trade. 
They are mostly agriculturists, and raise large 
crops of wheat and corn, which are borne to mar- 
ket upon the backs of men and mules and burros. 
We met many such burden-bearing cavalcades en- 
tering the city, and generally driven by Indians of 
the wildest types we yet have seen. The sturdy 
and rugged men are of a stronger race than the 
inhabitants of the Tierra C alien te along the val- 
ley of the Balsas. These Indians run, not a man 
of them walks. They take a quick, short step, a 
sort of jog-trot, which carries them forward a 
great many miles a day. 

The climate of Toluca i§ colder and drier than 
that of Mexico City, the town being so much higher 
above the sea. The temperature at night, all the 
year round, is said to be nearly at frost, falling as 
low as thirty-nine degrees (Farenheit). In the 
markets to-day I have seen oranges, limes, tama- 
rinds, apples, guavas, hawberries, three sorts of 
bananas, strawberries, and several other fruits I 
did not know, as well as fresh peas, beans, lettuce, 
turnips, beets, potatoes, sweet potatoes, yams, and 
several other edible tubers. I have also just pur- 
chased some of the celebrated Toluca lace, made 

184 



Morelia and Toluca 

by the Indians, and some pretty head shawls, 
(tapalos), of native make. An Indian pottery, 
made here, is also attractive — a brown and yellow 
ware, made into jars and water jugs, some of which 
I am sending to Kanawha. 

What a land this country of temperate high- 
lands would have become if only our Puritan and 
Cavalier ancestors had discovered and taken it! 
But the descendants of Puritan and Cavalier have 
at last found out the charm and richness of this 
great country and, little by little, are beginning to 
come into it, sympathetically collaborating with its 
people. Mexico will yet become a most potent fac- 
tor in the world's affairs. Progressive Mexicans 
hope for the day when Mexico will become even 
more closely knit to the great Republic of the 
North. Reactionary Mexicans, the conservatives 
of the Roman Church, dread and deprecate the im- 
pending change. El Mundo, chief newspaper of 
the ecclesiastical party, continually declaims against 
what it denounces as the "Peaceful Conquest," of 
Los Americanos. 

In Toluca there was no extensive celebration 
of the twelfth of December, *'The Coronation day 
of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the Indian Ma- 
donna," to every Indian the greatest festival of 
the year. In Morelia, on the contrary, just as 
in Patzcuaro, the town was lit up from one end 

i8s 



On the Mexican Highlands 

to the other with electricity, with gas jets, with 
lanterns, with multitudes of candles, with torches. 
The cathedral and the many churches were trimmed 
with bands of fire along each cornice, up and down 
each belfry and tower, and all the hundreds of bells 
were clanged discordantly. The bells of the churches 
of Mexico are not swung and rung, nor have they 
any clappers hanging in their throats. The bells 
are made fast in one position, are struck with a pon- 
derous hammer, and distract the stranger with their 
incessant dissonance. 

The illumination of Morelia is said to be paid 
for from the Archbishop's chest, although each 
layman is expected to set out his own candles before 
his door. In front of the cathedral a company 
of priests touched off elaborate fireworks. During 
the day, hundreds of Indians came into the city, 
even as I saw them entering Patzcuaro. They 
camped along the streets, cooked at little fires along 
the curbs, and slept wherever they happend to be. 
These Indians were chiefly afoot, the women 
brought their babies upon their backs, even the old 
folks were sometimes being carried along upon the 
shoulders of the younger men. The thronged and 
excited city was early awake. In fact, it never slept. 
And there were not only the swarms of Indians, but 
also groups of dashing haciendados in their high 
sombreros, short velvet jackets, and tight-fitting, sll- 

l86 



Morelia and Toluca 

ver-laced and buttoned pantaloones, all mingling 
and promenading and celebrating the fiesta of 
Mexico's patron saint. 

In Morelia no one has yet dared to sell a foot 
of ground to the Protestant missionaries. To do 
so would mean the seller's ruin. 

In Toluca the Protestant Church (the Bap- 
tists) have purchased buildings and opened a fine 
school for boys and girls, which is become the 
pride and life work of El Padre. 

So many smooth and cunning scoundrels have 
fled to Mexico, there to hide from American jus- 
tice, that the Mexican has begun to doubt us all. 
Hence it is doubly gratifying when one finds here 
honored and esteemed the better type of our en- 
lightened citizenship like El Padre, and some others 
whom I have met. 



187 



XVII 

Cuernavaca — The County Seat of Monte- 
zuma, of Cortez and Spanish Viceroys, 
of Maximilian — A Pleasant Water- 
ing Place of Modern Mexico 

Hotel Iturbide, Mexico City, 

December 17th, 

This IS my last night in Mexico City. I shall 
leave here to-morrow, Wednesday, at 9.30 P. M., 
by the Mexican Railway for Vera Cruz. I will 
reach there in time for breakfast, board the Ward 
Line's steamer, Monterey, and sail about noon for 
Havana, via Progresso, Yucatan. 

I delayed my departure until the evening, in 
order that I might visit Cuernavaca and have a 
glimpse of that famous watering place and the rich 
valley wherein it lies — ^where Montezuma and his 
nobles held luxurious court, where Cortez made his 
winter residence, and Maximilian erected a lovely 
villa for his Empress Carlotta ; and which is, to-day, 
the favorite resort of fashionable Mexico. My 
passes would have taken me a hundred and fifty 
miles further along the river Balsas — two hundred 

188 




SUSPICIOUS OF MY CAMERA 



Cuernavaca 

miles above where I saw it at Churumuco — ^but 
limited time prevented my going so far, and I con- 
tented myself with the lesser journey. 

I took the train this morning for Cuernavaca, 
at the large station of the Mexican Central Rail- 
way. I sat in a drawing-room car, as new and com- 
fortable as though just leaving Chicago or New 
York. Quite a party of the ladies of the American 
Colony went down with me ; along with them were 
several gentlemen, who seemed to belong to the 
diplomatic corps, and among these was the Swedish 
Consul, with whom I made conversation in Ger- 
man and French. 

The railway leaves the city on the east side, 
curves to the north, and circles around the north- 
ern suburbs, until it begins to climb toward the 
southwest. 

As we rise — a four per cent, grade — the fer- 
tile and beautiful valley of Anahuac, in which Mex- 
ico City is situated^ spreads out before me. The 
big white city, its red and black-tiled roofs, its many 
domed and towered churches ; the numerous lesser 
towns and villages scattering out into the bowl-like 
valley; the shimmering surfaces of lakes Tezcoco, 
Xochimilco, and Chalco, and bordering ponds ; the 
plantations of dark maguey; the orchards of citrous 
fruits; the innumerable gardens, floating gardens 
some of them, from which are gathered the fresh 

189 



On the Mexican Highlands 

vegetables daily displayed in the city's several mar- 
kets ; the dark green groves of the splendid cypress 
of the Alameda and of Chapultepec, as well as the 
palace itself, perched high upon its rocky base ; the 
circling ranges of lofty mountains, and, In the far 
southern distance, the mighty volcanoes of Popo- 
catepetl and Iztacclhuatl, snow-crowned and glit- 
tering with dazzling refulgence In the light of the 
morning sun, — all these made a picture as grand 
and Imposing as any landscape I have seen or may 
ever see, and as astonishing in its contrasts of light 
and shadow, of green semltroplcal valley and Ice- 
bound heights. 

For several hours we crept slowly upward, — 
the views and vistas ever changing. Everywhere 
there were plantations of maguey, and everywhere 
at the stations Indian women were selling fresh 
pulque to the thirsty travelers of the train. Then, 
little by little, as we were lifted above the warmer 
airs, we came Into the altitude of the oaks, exten- 
sive forests of well-grown oaks, and then yet higher 
we came Into splendid forests of pine. The moun- 
tains now lost the smoothness of surface, which 
marked the lower slopes. We came Into wide 
reaches of volcanic ash, tufa, beds of lava, all 
rough and sharp pointed, with deep cavernous 
clefts between, apparently lying just as they fell 
and flowed and hardened uncounted centuries ago. 

190 



Cuernavaca 

Upon reaching the summit, attaining an alti- 
tude of over ten thousand feet above the level of 
the sea, we traversed for many miles a grassy table- 
land, where were herds of the long-horned cattle, 
and flocks of the thin-wooled sheep with their keep- 
ers. Running parallel to our track extended the 
ancient Royal Turnpike, built long ago by Monte- 
zuma and maintained by Cortez with the labor of 
his conquered Aztec slaves, and still called "El 
Camino Real del Rey." On the very summit of 
the height of land stood the ruins of an old road- 
house and towered fortress. Here Cortez placed 
his soldiers, and here garrisons of troops have ever 
since remained to guard the public, to protect the 
royal mails, to preserve the dignity of the Republic, 
and even to-day to save the railroad trains from be- 
ing held up by modern bandits as bold and merci- 
less as their predecessors of bygone centuries. It 
is the tradition concerning these heights that they 
have always been the rendezvous of tribes and 
bands, whose immemorial privilege and occupation 
It has been to kill and rob. Gruesome are the tales 
to-day related of the murders and plunderlngs 
which once were of almost daily occurrence, and 
sometimes do yet occur along this famous road. 
Even now, I notice the camp of soldiers in perma- 
nent quarters beneath the shadow of the crumbling 
tower. Diaz, of the Iron hand, takes no chances 

191 



On the Mexican Highlands 

with the turbulent residents of these mountain sol- 
itudes ! AH along we are among the ancient lava 
beds, while always lifting into the deep azure sky 
far out to the left, glitter the snow-clad summits 
of Iztaccihuatl (Ista-se-wahtl) and Popocatepetl. 
They appeared to be close to us, and yet we never 
came any nearer to them, — although we steamed 
toward them almost half a day. 

The descent was rapid — we came down nearly 
five thousand feet In an hour and a half — into a 
most lovely verdant valley, two thousand feet 
lower than Lake Tezcoco. Here grew great crops 
of sugar cane, bananas, coffee, and oranges, limes 
and pomegranates — a profuse verdure. The val- 
ley, from ten to twenty miles in width, stretched 
away in broad sweeping curves both east and west, 
while through it flowed the upper waters of the 
River Balsas. Here the river takes its rise from 
the fountains of the melting snowlields upon the 
volcano's distant flanks. The valley Is one of the 
most fertile and salubrious in all Mexico. Cortez 
seized upon it almost as soon as he had wrested 
Tenochtitlan from Montezuma's grasp. What he 
did not take for himself, he divided out in liberal 
gifts among the great captains in his train, grant- 
ing to them Immense haciendas, farms fifty miles 
across, embracing lands of unbounded fertility, 
even then smiling beneath the care of skillful tlll- 

192 



^ ^M 




E 






^^^^■IKmJ 






p; dw _^^1S 



Cuernavaca 

ers of the soil. The best of these monstrous estates 
are still owned by families descended from the Con- 
questadores. The lands originally were all subject 
to the law of entail, and the laws are still upon 
the statute books. Here are famous prehistoric 
ruins, among them those of the ancient pyramid 
and temple of Xochlcalco and many hieroglyphics 
dating back to an antiquity more remote than the 
memory of even the Aztec people. Here also are 
the caves of Cacahuamllpa, equally famous. The 
great ruins, lying a day's journey from the city, I 
did not have a chance to see. 

My glimpses of the town of Cuernavaca were 
but flashlight peeps. The station, where we finally 
arrived, after descending by a long series of zlz- 
zags and sweeping curves, lies a good mile outside 
the city. Here a motley assemblage were gathered 
to greet our advent, an array of cochas, voitures, 
and cabriolets, drawn by dusty, uncurrled mules 
and horses. Remembering my experience, when 
last arriving In Mexico City, I hurried to an antique 
vehicle, drawn by a pair of mules, and bargained 
with the young cochero that he should drive me to 
and about the city of Cuernavaca and bring me 
back to the station. This after some haggling, he 
agreed to do, all for one peso (Mexican silver dol- 
lar). I climbed into the dusty equipage. The 
cochero swore at his mules in sonorous Spanish, 

13 193 



On the Mexican Highlands 

and cracking his long-lashed whip, started them on 
a full run down the wide camino, amidst a cloud 
of white dust. Thus we entered the city and thus 
we proceeded through streets narrow and broad, 
until we had traversed and circled and driven 
through the chiefer part of it. He never stopped 
his swearing, he continually cracked his whip, and 
the mules never slackened in their wild gallop 
throughout the happy hour he was in my employ. 
There are no sidewalks in these Spanish towns. 
Men and women bolted from our onward coming, 
children fled into open doorways, and dogs and 
chickens and lank hogs scattered before us as chaff 
before the wind. We rattled past the one-time 
palace of Cortez, afterward of Carlotta, Maximil- 
ian's ill-fated mate, and now used as the State 
Capitol. We circled the pretty plaza with its flow- 
ers and palms and tropical gardens and splashing 
fountains. We viewed the monstrous cathedral, all 
dilapidated. We drew rein a moment before the 
shrine of the Virgin of Guadeloupe, kodaked it, 
and swung along in front of the old church of the 
Franciscans. 

% My cochero seemed to gain enthusiasm with 
each bounce of the cocha. He clamored continu- 
ally in voluble and quite incomprehensible Indian- 
Spanish. The narrower and more ill-paved the 
street the more violently did he lash the mules like 

194 



Cuernavaca 

one possessed. A pair of pretty senoritas, on their 
balcony smiled upon me as we passed, and I ko- 
daked them in courteous acknowledgment of their 
good will; we beheld where the famous baths of 
Cuernavaca have for centuries been taken, and I 
had pointed out to me the magnificent and exten- 
sive Borda Gardens, where flowers and fruits, 
fountains and cascades, marble basins and minia- 
ture lakes express in utter riot the prodigal and 
exuberant fancies of an ancient half-mad million- 
aire ; and still proceeding, never stopping, we at last 
whirled back amidst even greater clouds of dust 
to the railway station, just in time to catch the 
train. Another motley throng was gathered there. 
Half of the town seemed to have turned out to see 
the other half depart. Along the platform were 
many Indians selling fruit and compounding those 
curious peppered sandwiches, which so delight the 
seasoned palate of the Mexican. By this time the 
lining of my own mouth having become somewhat 
inured to these fierce foods, I let an old Indian 
crone make for me a particular combination of 
bread and oil and pepper and cucumbers and highly- 
seasoned and minced meat, only daring to eat it, 
however, when I had entered my car again, so that 
I might be in close neighborhood to copious sup- 
plies of water. The Mexican delights in this sort 
of burning sustenance, and for him it can never 

19s 



On the Mexican Highlands 

be made too spiced and too hot. On the platform, 
of the station there were also many Mexican ladies 
of quality, come to say good-bye to husbands and 
brothers, who were returning to the capital. None 
of them wore hats, but the graceful mantillas were 
universally in use, and, generally, the gowns were 
black. 

Cuernavaca with its baths and mineral waters 
is the favorite of all the resorts, easily accessible 
to the fashionable Mexican. Here also almost 
continually resides a large colony of the European 
ladies whose husbands do business in Mexico City, 
the high altitude, thin air, and chilly temperature 
of which rarely agree with the health of the wo- 
men who come there from the lower sea levels. 
The men can stand it from the first, if their hearts 
and lungs are sound, but the women are often sent 
to Cuernavaca, there to sojourn until they become 
acclimated to the conditions of these highland 
plateaus. The harsh climate of Mexico City is 
particularly cruel to all convalescents; hence in- 
valids also come here to regain their strength. 
Thus, there is much travel upon the railway be- 
tween the capital of the republic and its most 
salubrious, near-by resort. 

It was afternoon when we drew out of Cuerna- 
vaca for the long climb to the height of land. As we 
ascended, the evening shadows were lengthening 

196 



Cuernavaca 

and creeping out from every cleft and hollow along 
the mountain sides; and toward the east, splitting 
the blue sky, towered Popocatepetl. The most 
profound Impression of my sojourn In Mexico, a 
memory which will follow me through life, Is that 
of the mighty, glittering, distant, yet ever-present, 
snow-bound cone of Popocatepetl. 

As we crossed the height of land and began our 
descent, the long evening shadows filled the great 
valley of Anahuac, while forth from every vale 
and hollow crept little bunches of cloudlike mist, 
until at last, with strange and weird effect, the as- 
sembled vapors shut from my vision the whole 
extent of the valley beneath, and made It seem as 
though we were plunging into the unfathomable 
depths of a white sea. The land, the lakes, the 
towns, the villages, and the city were hid beneath 
the Impenetrable, fleecy cloud-billows. 

It was dark when we entered the city. I took a 
cocha, and I am here again In my stone-walled 
chamber of the hotel. I entered the city from the 
north, I now leave it by the east, along the route 
which was traversed by the Invading conquerors 
from old Spain, when four hundred years ago they 
came up from the placid waters of the sea, a dread- 
ful apparition, bringing death In their mailed fists, 
and pestilence and cruel enslavement to a proud 
and ruling race. 

197 



XVIII 

The Journey by Night from Mexico 

City — Over the Mountains to the 

Sea Coast— The Ancient City 

of Vera Cruz 

Vera Cruz, Mexico, 

December 19th, 

Last night was to be my final one in Mexico, 
and as a troupe of Spanish actors was billed at one 
of the larger theaters, I went to see the play. There 
are a number of playhouses in the city, and pater- 
nal government is laying the foundation for an 
opera-house which, it is announced, will be one of 
the most ^'magnifico'^ in the world. The theater 
we attended was one of the largest, and the actors, 
Spaniards from Barcelona, were filling a season's 
engagement. In purchasing tickets, the first nov- 
elty was the separate coupons which are issued for 
each act. You buy for one act or another as you 
prefer. The Mexicans rarely stay the play out, 
but linger for an act or two and then depart. There 
are tiers of boxes around the sides, in which were 
many men arid ladies in evening dress, the belles 

198 




AZTEC INDIANS— MEXICO CITY 



Journey by Night from Mexico City 

and beaux of the city. We sat among the occu- 
pants of the seats upon the floor, the greater part 
of whom were men. The first noticeable differ- 
ence between the audience here and that at home is 
that every man keeps on his hat except when oc- 
cupying a box. It is bad enough, we think, for a 
woman to retain her hat or bonnet, but imagine 
how it is when you are confronted by multitudinous 
high-peaked broad-brimmed sombreros of the most 
obtrusive type. The excuse for the wearing of 
these great hats upon all occasions is, that in the 
chilly air of these high altitudes, it becomes a nec- 
essary protection. 

The faces about me were dark; even the men 
in the boxes were of darker color than would be 
those of the pure Spanish blood. The women are 
also dark, their color much darker than that of the 
usual mulatto in the States. This is due to the 
large inffision of Indian blood among the Mexican 
people, even among the leisure classes. 

The actors were of the Spanish swarthy type, 
but among the actresses, there were, as always, two 
or three with conspicuously red heads, the Vene- 
tian red so pronounced and popular among the Lon- 
don shopgirls. These red headed belles received 
the entire attention and applause of the male portion 
of the audience. The audience also smoked inces- 
santly, the gentlemen large Mexican cigars, the 

lOQ 



On the Mexican Highlands 

ladies their cigarettes. The right to smoke is an 
inalienable privilege of both sexes in Mexico, the 
women using tobacco almost as freely and con- 
stantly as do the men. The acting was good, and 
some of the fandango dances brought thunders of 
bravos. The pauses between acts were long. In 
one of the intervals we sauntered out upon the 
streets, where a mob of ticket brokers so assailed us 
and bargained so successfully for our remaining 
coupons, that we sold them at an advance over the 
figure we had paid. The plays begin early, about 
seven o'clock, and the doors stay open until mid- 
night, the constantly changing audiences giving to 
the actors fresh support. 

On a previous night we visited another theater, 
where a more fashionable company gathered to 
see the well-known Frenchman, Frijoli, in his clever 
impersonations of character. Here were assembled 
Mexico's most fashionable set, among them a party 
of distinguished South Americans attending the 
Pan-American Congress, the ladies from Brazil, 
Argentina, and Chili wearing costly diamonds, 
and being in full decollete attire. 

Here also the sombrero reigned supreme in 
dress circle and on parquet floor, and smoking was 
everywhere indulged in. 

Yesterday was to be my last day in Mexico. I 
started out in the morning to lay hold of a good 

2^0 



Journey by Night from Mexico City 

opal and try my luck in buying mantillas. From 
the young woman in the shop where I had had 
my kodak films prepared, I learned the location of 
an establishment where mantillas were sold. She 
could not talk to me in my own tongue. I was 
puzzled what to do, then an Idea came to me. I 
took out a pencil and paper. I handed them to 
her. I indicated by signs that I would have her 
make a picture. Quick as a flash she interpreted 
my thought. She laughed, and drew for me a per- 
fect little map, showing the shop wherein I stood, 
the street It opened out upon, the streets and blocks 
I should follow until I came to the place where the 
mantillas were, and she marked my final corner with 
an "X." I bowed to her profoundly, saying, many 
times, ^^Muchas gracias, mil gracias, sefiorita/^ and, 
with paper In hand, started on my quest. I had no 
trouble In finding my way. I finally halted before a 
big French retail dry goods store. All dry goods 
establishments here are either French or Spanish, 
just as the hardware and drug stores are all Ger- 
man; the native Mexican Is not keen in trade, and 
but few business houses are his. 

It was a large concern, and many customers 
were passing In and out. A number of clerks, all 
men, — I have seen no woman clerks anywhere — 
were standing behind long tables, while the public 
moved up and down between. I repeated the word 

201 



On the Mexican Highlands 

mantilla, and was shown to where were many shelves 
filled with flat pasteboard boxes. Several of these 
were taken down and the beautiful pieces of lace 
shown me. As I stood there, in a quandary what 
to select, a pleasant-faced, short, stout man with 
a dark-haired woman approached me. As they 
neared the table, she turned to him and said in good 
United States, ''O, here are the mantillas we are 
looking for." Her appearance attracted me, and 
so, turning to her and lifting my hat, I bowed and 
begged her aid. He and I then exchanged cards. 
He was a Dr. S., of Washington, for many years 
physician to Mrs. T., whose wedding I attended 
two years ago, making geological studies in Mex- 
ico, and soon going to Central America. We were 
at once friends. He was gathering information 
for the Smithsonian Institution. The lady was his 
wife. She aided me in selecting two lovely man^ 
tillas of black silk. Later, they accompanied me 
in my search for opals, and helped me choose sev- 
eral fine stones. Afterward, at their hotel, the 
Jardin, they showed me their collection of photo- 
graphs, and many of the mementoes and curios 
they were collecting. In the afternoon we dined 
together at my Creole restaurant. At last, we 
parted, with mutual regret. 

The train which bore me from the city left the 
station of the Mexican Railway (*'The Queen's 

202 



Journey by Night from Mexico City 

Own") , about nine o'clock P. M. It is a standard 
gauge railroad. I had a comfortable lower berth in 
the Pullman. The car was crowded. Several 
young officers in their smartest uniforms were say- 
ing adios to a number of black-eyed senoritas and 
their mammas. The young men at parting, 
wrapped wide scarfs about their mouths, almost 
hiding their faces up to their eyes, a common prac- 
tice used against pneumonia. The night air was 
cold. I wore my overcoat, and shivered where I 
stood upon the rear platform of the car watching 
through many miles the city's receding lights. We 
traversed the valley toward the east, and then 
began to climb the lower slopes of the mountain 
range we must cross before we should finally de- 
scend to Vera Cruz. 

When I awoke In the morning we were yet 
three hours from the Gulf. We had crossed the 
mountains in the night; we had ascended three 
thousand feet, and come down eleven thousand 
feet, through wild and beautiful scenery; a journey 
never to be taken by night, unless necessity demands. 
We were more than two hours late, having been 
detained at Orizaba, while we slept. This was for- 
tunate for me, for It gave me the daylight hours 
to view the lowlands through which the road 
passes from the mountains to the sea. 

Back of us, high, high Into the cloudless blue 
203 



On the Mexican Highlands 

sky, glittered the snowy peak of Mexico's greatest 
volcano, the lofty, mighty Orizaba, now known to 
be higher than Popocatepetl, and much like it In the 
contour of its cone; a most imposing sight as it 
shone in the light of the rising sun. Wherever 
we turned, wherever we went, mighty Orizaba fol- 
lowed us. We never lost sight of It, we could not 
escape its stupendous bulk. I am fortunate to have 
seen four of the chief snow-capped volcanoes of 
Mexico, and to have fine photographs of them all 
— Popocatepetl, Ixtaccihautl, Nevada de Toluca, 
and Orizaba. 

The lowlands we were traversing are wholly 
tropical; we were among extensive plantations of 
bananas, palms of many sorts, coffee orchards, and 
Impenetrable jungles. The sun was as hot as upon 
the llanos along the river Balsas in Mlchoacan. 

It was half-past nine when the train pulled into 
the station at Vera Cruz. A big negro, black as 
night, dressed in Immaculate white duck, collared 
me the very Instant my feet touched the ground. 
He spoke in soft, smooth English, with marked 
British accent. He Introduced himself as "Mr. 
Sam.'* *'I am a British subject from Jamaica," he 
said, "and representative of the Hotel Metropol- 
itan." He offered to conduct me to that Institution. 
He assured me it was "the finest establishment 
upon the coast." As that was my predetermined 

204 




THE MUNICIPAL PALACE— VERA CRUZ 



Journey by Night from Mexico City 

destination, I permitted him to precede me there, 
carrying my bags. The sun was fierce, the atmos- 
phere dull and heavy. We walked through filthy 
streets, streets never yet cleaned in all the four- 
centuries' life of Vera Cruz. The ill-paved and 
stinking gutters were filled with slime. The streets 
were bordered with low-built stucco houses. We 
entered an ill-kept plaza where grew lank bananas 
and cocoanut palms, a low government building 
with a graceful tower bounding its eastern side. 
Here we came to the hotel, an old stone edifice two 
stories high, with a loggia overspreading the side- 
walk, and a curtain hung between the pillars and 
the street to keep the hot sun from the footway 
which ran beneath. "Mr. Sam" instructed me in 
what I should have to do. First, I must follow 
him to the American doctor, and in the presence of 
the American Consul, procure a certificate of 
health. Then he would take me to the "Fumiga- 
tion Office" of the Mexican government to have 
my baggage examined and certified as free from 
yellow fever and contagious disease. Then he 
would take me to the office of the Ward Line 
Steamship Company to have my ticket, which I 
had bought the day before in the office of the com- 
pany in Mexico City, examined and certified, and 
then he would arrange that "The Express Com- 
pany," for a stiff fee, should convey my through 

205 



On the Mexican Highlands 

baggage from the station of the railway to the 
steamer Monterey, lying at anchor out in the open 
Gulf, although the day previous it had all been 
checked through from Mexico City to Havana. 
Later, he himself would row me out to the vessel 
and put me in my stateroom, free from further 
molestation of red tape. "Mr. Sam" proved him- 
self true, extracting from me, however, sundry 
centavos along the way. He did not intend me at 
any time to escape. Nevertheless, I did shake my- 
self free from his superintendence for one short 
hour, and strolled alone about the ancient town. It 
is a city of filth, stinks, and squalor — just the home 
for the perpetual breeding of pestilence. It is no 
wonder that the plague of yellow fever has for 
centuries stalked remorselessly in its midst. But 
the Mexican Government, stimulated by the ex- 
ample of the scientific cleanliness of Cuba, is now 
laying a modern sewer system, and has employed 
English engineers to construct extensive dock fa- 
cilities, and is transforming Vera Cruz into a clean 
and modern city. There is thus hope for both the 
health and the commerce of Vera Cruz. 

I visited the famous cocoanut palm grove in 
the Alameda Park, and seating myself upon one of 
the stone benches, watched the flocks of tame vul- 
tures which abound in Vera Cruz, and are the reg- 
ular street scavengers of the town. Protected as 

206 




THE TAME VULTURES OF VERA CRUZ 



Journey by Night from Mexico City 

they are by city ordinance, they run about like 
flocks of chickens. They scarcely move aside for 
the passer-by. There is not much of interest In 
Vera Cruz, although the city contains several 
ancient churches, Spanish towers, and one mediaeval 
fortress, built in the early period of the Conquest. 

After lunch at the hotel, where I was sadly 
overcharged, ''Mr. Sam" rowed me a quarter of a 
mile to the steamship Monterey, My baggage was 
brought out by the "express company" In a lighter 
along with that of other fellow-travelers of my 
train, and although we were through passengers 
from Mexico City to Cuba and New York, yet 
extra charges were made for this necessary service, 
an evident extortion. 

I had reached my ship about half-past three In 
the afternoon; we were scheduled to leave at four; 
we did not sail until long after the appointed hour, 
so slow Is the "lighterage" process of taking on 
cargo. The largest vessels can lie at the new piers, 
but either to save port charges, or, as they claim, 
"to avoid the possibihty of yellow fever," these 
boats anchor far out In the harbor and compel all 
passengers and freight to be brought on board. 

Our motley cargo Included sheep and cattle for 
Havana; a menagerie, lions, tigers, monkeys, and 
an elephant carefully hoisted and standing In a spe- 
cially constructed crate In the forward hold, un- 

207 



On the Mexican Highlands 

easy and swaying his body in great terror; and also 
many and divers crates and bales of merchandise. 

We carry a large company of cabin passengers 
for Progresso, the chief port of Merida, in Yuca- 
tan. Among them I have noticed a group of gen- 
tlemen who upon the train seemed to be suffering 
greatly from the cold. I learned that they are rich 
planters from Merida. One is a senator in the 
Mexican National Congress. He is a large, thick- 
set man, with high cheek bones, blue eyes, light- 
brown hair, a white man much burned and browned 
by tropical suns. I thought he might possi- 
bly be a German or Scandinavian. Imagine my 
astonishment when I am advised that he is a full- 
blooded "Yucataka Indian!" He is one of that 
strange tribe of blue-eyed, light-haired people,^ 
whom the Spaniards never conquered, and whom 
the Mexican government have never yet been able 
to subdue, and in recent years have only been won 
over through Diaz's subtle diplomacy. Whence 
came this tribe is one of the unsolved riddles of his- 
tory. Possibly some Viking crew, drifted far out 
of their northern waters, may have been the fore- 
fathers of this blue-eyed, unconquerable race. 

We are weighing anchor. The propeller blade 
begins to turn. On our port side rise the white 
walls of San Juan de Ulloa, the famous fortress 
and now state prison of Mexico, — an Island of 

208 





^itt 




sSb^''^ 


p-1 


^M 


i 


^y 


m 



A NOBLE PALM 



Journey by Night from Mexico City 

itself, — ^within the cells and dungeons of which 
yellow fever perpetually removes the imprisoned 
wretches sent there to die. 

To starboard lies at anchor the Mexican navy 
— a small-sized tug. Our voyage to Cuba is be- 
gun. 



14 209 



XIX 

Voyaging Across the Gulf of Mexico 

and Straits of Yucatan from Vera 

Cruz to Progresso and Havana 

Steamship Monterey, at Sea, 

December 21st-24th. 

It was late in the day when we set sail from 
Vera Cruz. The shoreland faded; the grove of 
cocoanut palms In the Alameda with their feathery 
tops waving in the evening breeze, were the last 
green things I saw. As the sun sank suddenly 
behind the great volcano, the western horizon was 
filled with golden and scarlet and purple color- 
ing, and jOrizaba^s summit was flooded with rose- 
ate splendor. The stars burst out, the moon crept 
up from the dark waters. We were on the Mex- 
ican Gulf, and the tropical heavens glowed and 
burned with a brilliance unknown to the latitudes 
of the middle north. The waters, churning in our 
wake, flashed and glowed with the phosphores- 
cence characteristic of tropic seas. The wind fresh- 
ened and, by the middle of the night, the knowing 

2IO 



Across the Gulf of Mexico 

ones hinted that more than the usual commotion 
of the sea might be expected before the dawn. In 
fact, a cablegram had been received, sent from Gal- 
veston, warning us that a "Norther" was on its 
way. 

I sat up till late, enjoying the rising gale and 
drinking in the delicious air. 

After so long a sojourn upon high, dry, 
parched land, it was a delight to be again upon 
the sea. The restless waters tossed our sturdy 
boat as though it were a cork. I slept soundly, 
despite the rolling of the ship and the hammer- 
ing of the surging billows against the shell of my 
cabin, and I was among the first to respond to 
the six o'clock bells summoning the hungry to their 
desayuno. These vessels follow the customs of the 
majority of their passengers and serve meals in 
Spanish fashion — desayuno from six to seven — cof- 
fee and rolls to whosoever may care to partake of 
them — and, about ten o'clock the almiierzo, the 
regular breakfast, a hearty meal; then the comida, 
the middle of the afternoon; while later between 
seven and eight o'clock cena is served, a light re- 
past, a cross betwixt the English tea and supper. 

All day the wind blew steadily from the north- 
west, and the Mexican travelers spent most of 
their time doubled above the rails like bended hair- 
pins. During the afternoon the gale increased. 

211 



On the Mexican Highlands 

Great banks of cloud, black and ominous, rolled 
down upon us, and, toward the close of the day, 
torrents of rain descended. Few passengers, by 
this time, remained upon the decks, and the group 
who gathered with the captain at the evening meal 
could be counted on the hand. As night drew on 
the winds boomed louder and terror took posses- 
sion of the unseasoned landsmen from Yucatan. 
But I felt no symptoms of seasickness, and the 
splendid sea-strength of this vessel gave me a 
sense of safety and repose. I wedged myself 
into my berth, so that I might not be thrown out, 
and lulled by the roaring of the storm and the 
rolling and plunging of the ship, fell peacefully 
asleep. When I at last awoke, the sun was long 
up, and the clouds were mostly drifted to the south. 
We were double-anchored in the open roadstead off 
Progresso, four miles from the shore. South of 
us, all along the coast, we could see the crests of 
the gigantic surf beating upon the sandy marge 
of Yucatan. No boat of less strength than our 
own, might dare to ride out such a storm ; no ves- 
sels can venture to us from the shore until the 
waters subside. There are no harbors along the 
entire coast of the Yucatan peninsula. The only 
ports are Campeche and Progresso, and ships must 
lie three or four miles out in the open sea and 
passengers and freight must be taken on and off 

212 




THE LITTLE BOYS LEAVING 
OUR SHIP 



Across the Gulf of Mexico 

In lighters, greatly to the disadvantage of com- 
merce. Above the white lines of the foaming 
breakers, we can see the tops of the waving cocoa- 
nut and royal palms, and between them the white 
buildings of Progresso. Back of Progresso, some 
thirty miles, lies the city of Merlda, but a few feet 
above the level of the sea, the commercial center 
of the world's henlquen or sisal grass trade. An 
enormous export business In this grass has sprung 
up since the beginning of the Philippine war, when 
the Manila hemp trade fell 'away. Natural con- 
ditions here favor the growth of the fiber, it in- 
creasing with little cultivation and great crops 
being raised. Millions of dollars have been ac- 
cumulated in late years by the fortunate planters 
of Merlda, and no city in Mexico has so suddenly 
advanced In wealth. 

During the afternoon we saw our first shore- 
boats, and we are promised that to-morrow, even 
though It be Sunday, the cargo shall be taken off. 
Two small boats have ventured out, and Into one of 
them have been thrown the malls which an await- 
ing train will quickly take to Merlda, but until 
morning no passengers will be permitted to go 
ashore, nor will any freight be landed. 

To-day we have seen our first sea birds, and a 
very few flying fish, while, since early dawn, there 
has traveled around the ship a continuous proces- 

213 



On the Mexican Highlands 

sion of sharks, their sharp dorsal fins constantly 
showing above the waters. Some of the passen- 
gers have been fishing for them, but as yet none 
have been caught and, I am told, they are very 
shy. While they will accompany a ship all the way 
to Havana, yet so suspicious are they of the fish- 
erman's line that they are rarely captured. 

This morning I stood looking down upon the 
deck next below me, watching a company of thirty 
or forty little boys aged from ten to twelve and 
fourteen years, one Kttle girl among them, seem- 
ingly sister to one of the younger boys. They 
were mostly sitting in groups of four and five toss- 
ing centavos and shouting with delight. They 
were gambling away the few coins in their pos- 
session. A couple of sailors came up, seized two 
of the little boys and stood them up in front of 
each other. The prisoners seemed to comprehend 
the intention of their captors, and Immediately fell 
to fighting desperately, until one knocked out the 
other, just as a couple of game cocks will go to 
fighting when placed In opposition. As soon as 
one of them had been vanquished, his sailor patron 
shoved him to one side, as something now quite 
useless, and grabbing another boy, set him in front 
of the victor. Then, at it they went again, and 
many of the children stopped their play to look on. 
The Mexicans about me were betting on the fights 

214 




OFF FOR PROGRESSO 



Across the Gulf of Mexico 

and apparently enjoying the pastime. I inquired 
who were these children, and learned them to be a 
company, who had mostly been stolen from the 
streets of Mexico and neighboring towns, and 
was told some had been bought from the state 
orphan asylums, at ten dollars a head, upon the 
payment of the price no questions being asked as 
to their destination. They are being taken into 
practical slavery to be speedily worked to death 
by the heniquen planters of Yucatan. They are 
delivered to the plantations and there perish rap- 
idly from poor food, harsh treatment, yellow fever, 
and the bites of insects which burrow into their un- 
protected legs and arms. They are said to die off 
like flies, the effort of the buyer being to get out 
of them his money's worth in work before they die. 
The children know nothing of their fate, until they 
are delivered to their death. The little fellows 
before me were in great glee through all the voy- 
age; each had been presented with a few silver 
coins, tne first many of them had seen in all their 
lives, and the joy of possession set them to gam- 
bling merrily all the day through. This traffic in 
children is said to have been long established and to 
be winked at by the Mexican authorities. Later 
on, we watched them climb down the side of the 
ship and enter the lighters, shouting with glee at 
the prospect of going to "the lovely new homes in 

215 



On the Mexican Highlands 

the country," where their captors pretended, would 
be their journey's end. 

It was late Monday evening when we set sail 
from Progresso. All day long we were discharg- 
ing cargo into the lighters, which swarmed around 
us, while after the passengers and cargo departed 
larger vessels brought out bales of heniquen, which 
were quickly stowed below. 

Among the passengers who left the ship, were 
several Americans. One, a large, redheaded, 
heavy-set man, with genial face and friendly man- 
ner, from Mississippi, was a timberman, out buy- 
ing mahogany in the forests of Yucatan. He told 
me that Americans are purchasing all the available 
mahogany now standing in the accessible Mex- 
ican forests, and he seemed to regard the mahog- 
any of Yucatan as of especial value. Another of 
the passengers leaving the ship was a man of small 
stature and clean shaven. He early attracted our 
attention by his sanctimonious air, and the fright- 
fully fluent American oaths with which he spiced 
his games of poker in the smoking room, where in 
company with a group of flashily dressed and be- 
diamonded Mexicans, he played apparently for 
the highest stakes. The contrast between his 
smooth exterior and the noisome contents of his 
mind, as well as the fact that the two or three 
hard-faced Mexicans who seemed to have in charge 

216 



Across the Gulf of Mexico 

the company of little boys, constantly sought him 
out in consultation, led to the suspicion that he 
was the chief trafficker in this death trade. In 
response to our questioning as to his antecedents 
and business, he became abusive, and upon my tak- 
ing his picture with my kodak, he grew angry and 
afterwards fought shy of all intercourse with his 
fellow-countrymen. As to who he may really be 
we know not. When the little boys departed from 
the ship, we noticed that he also sailed away. 

The sun was just sinking, like a ball of fire, 
into the margin of the western sea, when we 
weighed anchor and steamed eastward to cross the 
Strait of Yucatan. The surface of the waters 
lay calm and quiet as a sheet of glass. We were 
two nights and a day in reaching Havana, and the 
one day was spent In crossing the Strait. 

Most of the afternoon I have sat or lain upon 
the forward deck watching the waters and observ- 
ing the sea life everywhere about me. We have 
passed innumerable flocks of flying fish. Here and 
there a few porpoises have tumbled and wheeled 
about us, but the sharks have disappeared. Also, 
I have caught sight of my first nautilus, so daintily 
sailing its convoluted shallop upon the sea. These 
exquisite shell-fish I have never before seen alive, 
and I have watched them with keenest Interest. 
They appear only when perfect calm prevails. At 

217 



On the Mexican Highlands 

the least roughness of the sea, they Instantly sink 
from view. We have also all day been passing 
through extensive masses of yellow gulf weed, such 
as I have noticed when traversing the Gulf Stream 
on transatlantic voyages, only here the weed was 
in great masses, not yet having been broken up by 
the tempestuous ocean tides. But we have been 
accompanied by no birds. 

As we drew further eastward the air grew more 
soft and balmy. We were utterly alone, no craft 
other than our own appeared anywhere upon the 
waters. 

I fell asleep watching the big stars and dream- 
ing of Spanish galleons and British buccaneers, of 
Portuguese pirates and French marauders, whose 
adventurous sails have in the centuries gone by 
whitened in countless multitudes these now silent 
seas. 

When morning broke, the shores of Cuba 
bounded the horizon on the south, ten or fifteen 
miles away. Low sandy reaches stretched along 
the sea; palms, tall and feathery, were waving in 
the morning breeze behind the white ribbon of 
the strand, a faint blue line of mountains lying 
yet beyond. As we approached the island there 
seemed to be no break in the coast line, but farther 
on we discovered a narrow channel, between the 
fortress of El Moro and the city of Havana and, 

2i8 



Across the Gulf of Mexico 

entering it, came into a harbor, landlocked and 
storm free, one of the securest in the world. We 
cast anchor near the projecting rusted wreck of 
the United States Steamship Maine. I had fin- 
ished my voyage. I was here to go ashore, while 
a few hours later the Monterey would turn north- 
ward and sail on to New York. 



219 



XX 

The City of " Habana "—Incidents of a 
Day's Sojourn in the Cuban Capital 

Habana, Cuba, 

December 5th. 

"Habana," says the Cuban and Spanish mouth, 
and the b is so gently uttered that you cannot tell 
it from a v. 

Yesterday morning, Tuesday, we cast anchor 
beneath the ramparts of the great fortress of La 
Cabaiia (Cabanya) in the wide landlocked bay; 
many other ships swung to their moorings in the 
quiet waters, among these the battleship Massa- 
chusetts and two cruisers, Kentucky and Kearsarge, 
of the navy of the United States. 

The harbor of Habana, you will remember, is 

a mile or more wide and nine or ten miles long, 

capable of accommodating an extensive shipping. 

Now, since it has been dredged and cleaned of the 

accumulated filth of centuries, the largest boats 

may come up to the docks and sea wall along the 

city's marge. The larger vessels, however, just as 

at Vera Cruz, still prefer to anchor out in the bay, 

and send passengers and freight ashore by means 

of tugs and lighters. 

^ ^ 220 



The City of ^'Habana" 

We were scarcely moored, when a multitude 
of small boats surrounded us, all apparently offer- 
ing to ferry us to the city. We ignored their 
clamor and clambered aboard the large steam tug 
to which our baggage was also transferred, and 
were quickly landed at the customshouse. 

My two steamer trunks and big basket of Mex- 
ican pottery I left in care of the customs officers, 
and came up into the city with only a valise. The 
customshouse is a long, low, stone building, with an 
iron fence shutting it in and enclosing also an 
extensive paved storage yard. The Cuban officers, 
who were very polite, are yet under the military 
control of the United States and of General Wood, 
and they all spoke English fluently. 

Passing out through the great iron gates, we 
signalled for a cochero, when half a dozen gal- 
loped up gesticulating and vociferating eagerly. 
We choose the cleanest-looking cocha of the lot, 
a curious ancient vehicle, which seemed to be a 
cross between the German jiacre and a Parisian 
voiture. Into this three of us climbed, when we 
set off on a gallop through narrow streets up into 
the city, halting at last before the Spanish-kept 
Hotel Pasaje. It is big and airy, and I have a 
room at the top where I can catch any breeze which 
may be blowing. The floor of my chamber is 
tiled; it is fitted with an iron bedstead with wire 

221 



On the Mexican Highlands 

mattress, and neat American cottage furniture,. 
An electric incandescent lamp dangles from the 
ceiling, and there are two large sashless windows 
with slatted Venetian curtains which may be let 
down to shut out wind and light. My first view 
of Habana was from one of these windows. I 
looked out over a city of flat roofs, where much 
domestic labor was carried on, and then beyond, 
across the palm-ornamented plaza and along the 
beautiful Prado to the sea. 

My first commercial transaction was the pur- 
chase of really fine cigars at a most reasonable fig- 
ure; and then a packet of postal cards illustrated 
with views of Cuba. Down in the corner of each 
card was the legend, *'Made in Detroit." When 
I called the attention of the Spanish salesman to 
this fact, he declared "there is no such place as 
Detroit," and "undoubtedly the words are the 
name of the Spanish artist who designed the 
cards!" 

Leaving the hotel, I sauntered toward the 
Plaza Grande, an open square of several acres, 
traversed by gravel walks, and shaded by many 
Royal and other graceful palms; and then cross- 
ing it I came to the Prado. '^Muy honita esta el 
Frado^ (very lovely is the Prado) , is the common 
phrase of every Habanista ; and rightfully are the 
Habanese proud of their splendid parklike boule- 
vard. 222 



The City of ^^Habana" 

Habana is built upon a low, broad-topped hill, 
which descends gently to the water side. On the 
flattened crest of this hill is the Plaza Grande, and 
from the Plaza down to the sea, a mile or two in 
length, stretches the Prado; — a wide boulevard 
on either side of a broad green strip of park, where 
a waHc-way passes beneath a double row of ancient 
and umbrageous trees, and comfortable seats are 
placed at intervals. 

It is on the Prado that the fashion and beauty 
of Habana drives and promenades and lingers to 
see and be seen of all the world. Along its borders, 
on either hand, are built many of the noblest man- 
sions of her merchant and planter magnates. To 
have a residence upon the Prado is to command 
respect. 

The Spaniard and Cuban cared little for his 
streets, but he devoted himself with lavish atten- 
tion to beautifying the interior of his home. Hence, 
in the Cuban as in the Mexican cities, you often 
pass along between bare uninteresting walls, while 
the costliest marbles, the richest fabrics, the rarest 
paintings within, quite hidden from all curious eyes, 
may be collected. 

Later in the day I wandered through the shop- 
ping districts along the famous Calles Obispo and 
O'Rielly, streets so narrow that during the heat of 
the day they are wholly overspread with awnings 

223 



On the Mexican Highlands 

while wheel traffic must go down O'Rielly and up 
Obispo. Here are gathered in plain unpretentious 
buildings many sumptuous shops. The Cuban has 
not yet learned the art of window display; he is 
not up even to the Mexican in that. But once you 
are within and know what to ask for, beautiful 
fabrics and expensive goods are shown you with- 
out stint. Among other shops, the hat store holds 
an important place in Cuban as well as Mexican 
life. In Mexico, the sombrero, costly or cheap, 
marks the social status of the wearer and, just so, 
here in Cuba the quality of your panama deter- 
mines the amount of consideration which you re- 
ceive. I entered the Hotel Pasaje wearing a mod- 
ern American felt hat, and when I bloomed out in 
a really good panama, the clerks and servants 
treated me with markedly increased respect. In 
the same way, when you enter a shop, the clerk 
sizes up your hat and treats you accordingly. 

A noteworthy thing about Habana is the great 
number of cigar stores. No city in the world pos- 
sesses so many. Nor are the cigars there purchased 
to be surpassed. Every one smokes cigars in Ha- 
bana. The cigarette holds the inferior place. The 
men smoke cigars; the boys smoke cigars; even 
many of the women smoke cigars. In Mexico, in 
the hotels and railway cars, the ladies were usually 

224 



The City of ^^Habana" 

smoking cigarettes. Here in Habana delicate fem- 
inine lips close tenderly upon el segaro. 

There is also much fruit sold at little stands 
along the street curbs and at the corners, but in 
nothing like the quantity or profusion seen in the 
Mexican cities, nor have I met any dulce boys 
with trays of candied fruits upon their heads. 

There are two chief markets in Habana; one 
is by the water side, where the fishermen come and 
where I was greatly interested. There were the 
splendid red-snapper — which I saw in the markets 
of Mexico fresh from the sea, — a large handsome 
fish of deep-red color, weighing five or six pounds ; 
and multitudes of sorts I did not know. The 
other, a large market where flowers and fruits and 
vegetables are sold is on the hill a mile or two 
from the sea. 

The vegetable gardens in the outskirts of the 
city, are in the hands of the Chinese, who bring the 
vegetables to the markets where they are sold by the 
Cubans. They work the gardens just as they would 
in Shanghai, in Canton, in Pekin; they have come 
over from China direct; they already control the 
greengrocer trade of Habana, and are said to be 
fast growing rich. 

The markets are neither so large, nor so abund- 
antly supplied as those of Mexico City, where the 
fruits and vegetables of the temperate highlands, 
15 225 



On the Mexican Highlands 

and also those of the tropics are offered In the same 
stall. 

It was the day before Christmas when I vis- 
ited the larger market, and the chief Interest of the 
buyers seemed to be centered In the display of live 
and suckling pigs. It Is the custom of the Cuban 
to celebrate his Christmas with a royal banquet of 
roast pig. So the housewife selects a ''live and 
squealing dinner," ties him together by his four 
legs and with a cord slung across her shoulder, car- 
ries him home, lustily vociferating beneath her 
arm. I saw few pigs In Mexico, only an occa- 
sional hog or shoat, lean and wild, scampering 
along the wayside In Mlchoacan ; but here, in Cuba, 
the pig Is el gran Sehor, 

The crowds gathering In these markets were 
in strong contrast to those of Mexico. Here, were 
none of the warm brown Indian tints, but Instead 
the yellow mulatto and the very dark Spaniard or 
negro. The curious thing about these Cuban 
crowds is that the Spanish mulatto. Instead of car- 
rying the white man's color with the negro's fea- 
tures, bears, on the contrary, the white man's fea- 
tures with the darker color of his African blood, 
and hence, the Impression created by a Cuban crowd 
Is rather that of men having Caucasian features 
shaded In color from the paler to the darker hues. 
It is also said, that many of the darker faces 

226 



The City of ^'Habana" 

have in them no negro blood at all, but are those 
of the descendants of the ancient Moors, who, once 
the lords of old Spain, have left as legacy a proud 
lineage and swarthy skin. To the unpracticed eye^ 
it is almost impossible to distinguish between the 
Spanish negro and the "Black Spaniard." Thus 
in Cuba the color line of race distinction, as drawn 
in the United States, becomes almost impossible. 
Nor does It exist. Men of all shades mingle and 
mix in social functions, for who can tejl whether 
the dark face is shaded by the infused blood of the 
lowly negro or the haughty Moor? 

In the late afternoon I took my way down 
along the Prado, and, stopping before No. ^^, 
touched an electric bell. The door opened and I 
entered a spacious patio; on one side stood a mod- 
ern automobile, — on the other, pots of flowering 
plants, and I entered a large and airy drawing 
room. 

I might have been in my own country, for it 
bore the marks of modern taste. It was the draw- 
ing room of Senora who as Miss , I had 

known and admired in the United States. She 
expressed delight at seeing me, greeting me with 
the cordlahty of an old friend. She at once in- 
sisted that I accompany her that evening to Mrs. 
General Wood's private box at the dinner to be 
given by the citizens of Havana to the United 

227 



On the Mexican Highlands 

States naval officers now here with the squadron. 
The dinner was to be held in the Opera House. 
It would be the most notable function of the year ; 
all that was distinguished in Cuban, Spanish, and 
American social, military and naval life would be 
there assembled. I was a passing traveler, and my 
white duck trousers and blue flannel coat were 
scarcely the costume to wear among so brilliant a 
company; but it was the best I had and what bet- 
ter could I do than accept? My hostess' husband, 
as one of the receiving committee, must be sepa- 
rated from her and my escort would stand her in 
good stead. 

A few hours later we were ushered Into the 
big theater, and shown with much ceremony to 
the private box of the wife of Cuba's Military 
Governor. Here were gathered Mrs. Wood her- 
self, the wife of Admiral Converse, and the ladies 
of their entourage. The scene was splendid. The 
spacious Opera House, built by the Spaniards with 
their appreciation of pomp and ceremony and bril- 
liant functions, was filled with a distinguished as- 
semblage; from floor to lofty roof were tiers of 
boxes, and these boxes were occupied with the 
beauty and fashion of Cuba. The great parquet 
of the theater was floored over and upon this space 
were set long tables. The dinner had already some 
time ago begun. The company there gathered 

228 



The City of "Habana" 

were nearing the hour when toasts are offered. 
Young Senor Garcia, son of the Cuban General, 
was Toast Master of the occasion. On his right sat 
General Wood; upon his left the Archbishop of 
Santiago, in rich and gorgeous robes, the first na- 
tive Cuban priest to reach that high dignity. The 
American naval and military officers were in full 
dress uniform, and the Cuban Generals were bril- 
liant in warlike trappings and gold lace. The civil- 
ians wore dress suits, and I was conspicuous as the 
only guest of the evening in white duck and blue 
flannel. 

The speeches were in Spanish and English, and 
great enthusiasm and good fellowship prevailed. 
In the course of the evening, most of the gentle- 
men present came to pay their respects to the wife 
of Cuba's Governor, and I had the good fortune to 
be introduced to the greater part of them. 

The sentiment between the Cubans and the 
Americans is now most cordial, or, perhaps I 
should say, between the governing and more cul- 
tivated Cubans and ourselves; for among those 
whose knowledge of the United States is gathered 
chiefly from contact with a soldiery, not altogether 
courteous in enforcing order, there is little good 
feeling, but rather a sense of sharp antagonism, 
which, though usually suppressed, nevertheless now 
and then crops out. 

229 



On the Mexican Highlands 

After the dinner and the closing of the func- 
tion, I wandered out beneath .the stars along the 
Prado and through the Plaza Grande to my hotel. 
The streets were yet alive with people, although it 
was late. In the great square the band had not 
finished its nightly concert, and the chairs which, 
in Havana as in Mexico, are rented to the public, 
were yet well-filled with those who lingered to en- 
joy the music and the cool night air. 

Continuing my way homeward, I caught the 
distant hum of voices and an occasional shout. The 
sounds grew nearer. Looking down the Prado, I 
beheld many moving lights. Then a band began 
to play. A procession was approaching. I paused 
to watch. First came a band, men in smart uni- 
forms; following these were men on horseback, 
some in uniform, some in civilian dress. Then 
came several other bands, and men and boys on 
foot carrying banners and lanterns and illumina- 
tions-. A multitude was marching through the 
streets. Every now and then they shouted the name 
"Masso, Masso," and broke into vivas and hravos. 
At the Hotel Pasaje they halted and renewed their 
cheers and cries, the wide street becoming packed 
with the pressing mob, a cheering crowd, mostly 
dark-faced. The procession was a demonstration 
in behalf of Masso by the followers of the "Masso- 
ista'* party. He is the candidate they would elect 

230 







^^^^p 


■51 


^«**"" 


, 


'1 1 


1 j^ 


J 


i 


i 


1 



SELLING VEGETABLES— HAVANA 



The City of "Habana" 

to the Presidency of the Cuban Republic in oppo- 
sition to Estrada Palma. 

On the afternoon of the following day, I was 
riding on the tramway In company with a friend, 
toward the suburbs on the hill, when a tall and 
courtly Cuban came toward us. He took a seat 
next to my friend and after a few moments' con- 
versation, turned to me and said In perfect Eng- 
lish that he had noticed me the night before In the 
box of '^Senora General Wood," and, "that he had 
remarked me for a stranger In Habana." He said 
that he was shortly to leave the car, and asked 
whether we would not like to visit an old Cuban 
mansion. In order to see how people In Cuba lived 
in the style of the old regime. 

Knowing the gracious manner of compliment 
habitual among the Spanish peoples, I was going 
to thank him for the proffered courtesy and de- 
cline; but my American friend, to my surprise, 
promptly accepted the Invitation. We left the car 
in company with our guide, Senor , who be- 
longs to one of the oldest Cuban families of French 
descent, — and Is a lawyer of distinction. 

We approached a stately residence built of 
white marble, a series of high marble pillars before 
a marble portico running along the front. We 
passed through a small gate within a larger one in a 
high, wrought Iron fence, through a small glazed 

231 



On the Mexican Highlands 

door In a large doorway and came into a high, wide 
drawing room, extending across the front of the 
house. All was white marble, — the floors, the 
wainscoting, the doorways; — there was no wood- 
work anywhere. Handsome rugs lay upon the 
floor and French rattan furniture of easy shapes 
was scattered about the room. At one side we 
entered another lofty chamber, similarly floored 
and wainscoted, used as a ladies' boudoir, and 
thence passed out across a wide piazza. Into a 
beautiful and well-kept Spanish garden. The 
walks were carefully laid out, the beds were full 
of blooming plants — there were many palms of 
different varieties, and a marble bath house with 
running water and a large swimming pool. Beyond 
the flower garden, we entered a vegetable garden, 
close to which stood a commodious stable ; then re- 
turning to the house El Senor asked whether we 
would like also to see the kitchen. We were shown 
into a big square room, In the center of which stood 
an octagonal blue-tiled "stove," about ten feet 
across at the top, and four feet high, a sort of 
porcelain table, containing many niches wherein 
to build small charcoal fires, a single fire to cook 
each separate dish. An old negro servant, a freed 
slave, was preparing the evening meal. We next 
entered the large dining room, with old mahogany 
furniture, a long table for banquets, and at one side 

232 



The City of ^^Habana" 

a small table already set for the evening meal. 
There was much handsome silver and cut glass 
upon the high, old-fashioned mahogany sideboard. 
From the dining room we passed Into a library, 
the shelves filled with French and Spanish and 
German and English books. Here the father of 
my host, an eminent judge, had gathered about 
him much of the world's choicest literature. Then 
we came out Into the wide patio, square and open 
to the sky, a fountain playing In the middle, and 
many potted palms and flowering plants set round 
about. The great house was of one story, and all 
rooms opened upon the central court. None of the 
windows were sashed with glass, and Venetian 
blinds kept out the light and too much air. 

Here, In this sumptuous home lived for half a 
century one of the distinguished families of Ha- 
vana; here now were living the grandchildren of 
those who built It. 

Our host then led us up to the wide flat roof, 
whence stretched out before us a panorama of the 
city, the bay and the open sea. 

My friend, who had long lived in Havana, 
holding a prominent post In government employ, 
had never before enjoyed the privilege of inspect- 
ing so beautiful a Cuban home. As we parted that 
evening he turned to me and said, "Perhaps the 
white duck trousers and blue flannel coat, which 

233 



On the Mexican Highlands 

were so conspicuous last night in the box of Cuba's 
Governor General, are to be thanked for this op- 
portunity now come to both of us." El Senor 
had been pleased to show a courtesy to the guest 
of the first lady of the Island. 

Neither the great cathedral of Havana, nor any 
of her churches, nor the honored chapel where 
Columbus' bones are supposed to have lain, nor 
any of her public buildings, not even the "Palace" 
of the Spanish Captain Generals, are of so striking 
and splendid architecture as one sees generally in 
Mexico. The allurement and dazzling fame of 
the Empire of Montezuma attracted thither all 
that was daring and forceful and brilliant In old 
Spain. Even the wonders of Cuba and the Antilles 
paled before the tales of fabulous wealth and treas- 
ure of the conquest of Cortez. The noble churches 
and architecture of Mexico have no rivals among 
the Cuban cities. Nor Is there among the Cubans 
that picturesqueness In garb, that striking bril- 
liancy of coloring, which one sees upon the streets 
of the Mexican cities. In Cuba you see no scarlet 
and green and blue zerapes; no purple and blue and 
pink rehozos; no rancherros and cahalleros in vel- 
vet jackets and tight-fitting trousers, laced and 
spangled and buttoned with threads of silver and 
gold; none of the splendor in coloring and dress 
of the sixteenth century, which still clings to the 

234 



The City of "Habana" 

street scene In Mexico. Cuba In Its outward as- 
pects Is distinctly, unromantlcally modern. The 
black coat Is de rigueiir; the black hat or the 
panama Is the only covering for the head, and 
even conventional millinery has begun to drive 
away the graceful mantilla from the brows of las 
sehoras. There Is no poetry, no artistic coloring In 
the life scheme of the Cuban. His face and move- 
ments lack the vivacity and alertness Inspired by 
the keen, quickening air of the Mexican High- 
lands. Even the clothes he wears and the way 
he wears them bespeak the heavy, sea level atmos- 
phere he breathes. Nor has the language of the 
Cuban preserved the ancient grace and forceful- 
ness which distinguish the almost classic Spanish 
of the Mexican. The Spanish spoken In Cuba has 
added to Its vocabulary a multitude of words from 
the French and English of Its neighbors, and from 
the provincial patois of the formerly numerous 
Spanish soldiery. 

Another time we rode out to the attractive 
suburbs of Vendado, where are many fine houses 
and extensive gardens, the greater part of them 
built In the old Spanish style, but some of the 
newer buildings after the fashion of modern Amer- 
ican architecture. These last are less attractive 
than those which the Spaniard has evolved from 
his centuries of living In the latitudes of the tropics. 

235 



XXI 

Cuba — ^The Fortress of La Cabana 

Havana, 
Decmber 2nd. 

The candle end Captain Maclrvlne held in his 
hand had burned so low that his fingers were 
scorching. My last match was burned up. We 
should have to grope our way out. Just at that 
moment a dim flicker of a distant light gleamed 
far down the low, narrow tunnelway. It came 
nearer, it grew larger; a man was there, — a sol- 
dier — yes, a Cuban officer, a lieuteant of infantry. 
With him were two ladies; one older than he, 
whose face, sweet, but oh, so sad! was furrowed 
with deep lines. Her hand trembled on her es- 
cort's arm. The other woman was younger, quite 
as young as the lieutenant, and comely to look upon. 
'^Si, SehoYy^ replied the lieutenant to a query, ''I do 
have one box of the match. Take of them one 
half. Take of them all. I do know the way out." 
He handed Maclrvine a box of small wax tapers. 
Tears were streaming down the elder woman's 
face; the younger gave a sob. The three passed 

236 




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Cuba — Fortress of La Cabana 

on and turned up the steep ascent to the left. We 
were In the pitch dark again. 

"Who Is he? Who are they?" I asked. ''He 
Is the officer now in command of this fortification ; 
they are his mother and sister," Maclrvine replied, 
half divining my question. "He is of a prominent 
Cuban family. They were people of wealth. The 
family were at dinner one evening. A Spanish 
guard called at the house, sent In a card to the 
father, who was an eminent judge. He left the 
table and went to the door. He was arrested and 
brought here, hatless and In his slippers. When 
the family went to ascertain why he did not come 
back to finish his coffee, they learned that he had 
been taken to La Cabana. They never saw him 
again. The Spanish authorities reported that he 
had 'escaped.' In fact, he was brought down here 
into one of these dungeons, and was walled up 
alive. These loose rock walls you are now looking 
at, filling these low arches along this passageway, 
all tell the same tale. Behind every one of these 
walls, one or more Cubans have been Immured 
alive. Their bones still rot there." 

When a man was walled in, no record was kept 
of the dungeon; the guards were subsequently 
changed and often sent to another fortress. No one 
might know the victim's burial place, where he 
was immured with only a jug of water, a loaf of 



On the Mexican Highlands 

bread; and the rats robbed him of half of these. 
Oblivion in life, oblivion in death. 

We were in the deepest, darkest dungeonway 
of the gigantic fortress, La Cabaiia, which crowns 
the height across the bay from Havana. The pas- 
sage was about four feet wide. Along one side 
were narrow, low arches, some three feet in span. 
Most of these arches were wholly filled with a wall 
of large loose rock. Air might pass through be- 
tween the chinks, and the rats and lizards could 
crawl through ; an empty rat, not one full-fattened 
on the dead within. A few of these walls had been 
torn down, and the scattered bones which sharp 
teeth had not destroyed had been utterly gathered 
together and buried in the beautiful cemetery of the 
city. But most of these walls were yet untouched, 
the story of their unknown dead forever lost. My 
foot hit something, I bent down and picked up 
the tibia of a human arm; the rats had dragged it 
through the wall. I laid it back gently on a pro- 
jecting shelf of rock, my soul filled with horror, 
at the tale of Spanish cruelty it told. 

We were a long way from daylight. We had 
crossed a moat within the giant fortress. We had 
passed many cave-like chambers built into the mas- 
sive masonry — the casemates where soldiers and 
officers had lived in ease. We had entered a small 
room with stone seats on either hand. It was the 

238 





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Cuba — Fortress of La Cabana 

outer guardroom of the series of dungeons behind. 
We had pushed open an immense Iron grating which 
swung on rusty hinges like a door. We had come 
into a vast vaulted chamber, flagged with huge 
stones, the center of the floor being lower than the 
sides, making the drain. Along the walls on either 
hand, all the way, at a height of about seven feet, 
were heavy iron rings. To these rings the prisoners 
had been chained. Sometimes the chains were riv- 
eted to iron collars welded about the neck. A man 
might stand on tiptoe in comfort. When his toes 
gave out the collar pinched his neck ; he sometimes 
died overnight before the jail guard discovered 
that his toes were weak. Into this great chamber 
hundreds of Cuban patriots had been crowded. No 
air could enter but through the narrow grated door, 
— no light could penetrate but the faint glimmering 
that drifted In through the small outer doorway. 
Those who might die were brought to the grating 
by any of their fellow-prisoners whose fetters en- 
abled them to move. The great chamber still stank 
with the reek of blasted mortality. But this was 
not all. At the far end of the vast room was yet 
another grated door, now swung open upon rust- 
ing hinges. We passed into a second chamber, 
lower and longer than the first, obscure with per- 
petual gloom. The faintest gleam of God's sweet 
day could be scarcely discerned through the dls- 

239 



On the Mexican Highlands 

tant door-grating of the first chamber. Here, too, 
men had been chained to iron rings at intervals 
along either side. With our lighted candle end, 
we scanned the massive walls and tried here and 
there to make out the faintly remaining legend, in 
faulty Spanish script, of the hapless creature who 
had graven here his dying word. In this remote 
dungeon, men were pent up to die of meagre food, 
of putrid water, of perpetual darkness, and of the 
foul hot air that crept in from the outer dungeon. 
I thought surely we should have no further 
horrors yet to see. But Captain Maclrvine knew 
the way. He had been among the first American 
soldiers to enter La Cabana and to discover the 
mysteries of these unknown and sometime for- 
gotten dungeons. At the far end of the second 
chamber, he pushed open a heavy solid iron door. 
He entered a narrow passage barely three feet wide 
and so low that I had to stoop. "Mind where you 
set your foot. Take care of your head. Go slow,'' 
he cried warningly; and we found ourselves going 
down a steep decline. The air was dank and fetid. 
My throbbing head was dull and heavy. Before 
our approach scurried a too venturesome rat. I 
stepped upon the slimy body of a lizard. My ear 
detected the retreat of hosts of scorpions as they 
clicked their cumbrous claws, but I heard the dis- 
mal winging of no bats; here was too deadly an 

240 



Cuba — Fortress of La Cabana 

atmosphere for even these to live. We came 
abruptly to a rock-wall, loose, but firmly set in a 
low arched depression. The passage widened and 
turned at right angles, both right and left. It was 
here we saw the approaching light and met the 
Cuban officer and the ladies. 

When we found our way out to the clear, sweet 
sunshine again, and I looked into the blue sky arch- 
ing over my head, and scented in my nostrils the 
fragrant breeze which swept up from the sea, and 
then looked up and beheld floating spotless and 
resplendent, above me and above La Cabana and 
above Cuba, now free, my beloved flag, the flag 
of my own free land, the Stars and Stripes, my 
heart quickened. I choked a little, and I knew 
what Cuba and the world had gained through the 
blood and tears poured out by my country in order 
that Spanish tyranny should be forever expelled 
from its last stronghold this side the sea. 

Captain Maclrvine and I had met that after- 
noon near the gateway of the customshouse in Ha- 
vana, by the water side. We had taken one of the 
curious, blunt-ended, awning-covered rowboats, 
which will hold a dozen passengers, and which 
everywhere crowd along the quays. We had hired 
the old Cuban waterman for the afternoon, and 
bade him row us to the water stage of La Cabana, 
set us ashore and then meet us at the water gate of 
i6 241 



On the Mexican Highlands 

El Moro, three hours later in the afternoon. He 
was brown and withered, with grim square jaw and 
line dark eyes. He was a Cuban patriot. He had 
himself spent nigh two years in the gloomy dun- 
geons of the fortress, his family having long given 
him up for dead ; and all because in his secret heart 
he dared to love Cuba Libre, 

La Cabana is the largest Spanish fortification 
in the New World. It has been several centuries 
in growing to its immense dimensions. Crowning 
the heights across the bay from the city of Havana, 
its record of compulsory guests is a record of three 
centuries of the grief and agony of a race. Eigh- 
teen to twenty millions of dollars in gold have been 
spent upon its vast and massive walls and ram- 
parts, its moats and fosses. Impregnable was 
it deemed to be by the Spanish engineers, and the 
United States did not have to try what its strength 
might be in fact. Up the narrow, slanting, rock- 
paved causeway from the water side to the stern 
stone portals of the single entrance have passed a 
long procession of Cuban patriots — men and wo- 
men, mere boys and white-haired men ; and few are 
they who ever came out again. They died in the 
dungeons by scores, and their bodies were buried In 
trenches, or, borne through the subterranean pas- 
sage to the ramparts of El Moro, were there 
thrown to the sharks in the open sea. Those of 

242 




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Cuba — Fortress of La Cabana 

lesser note who dared yet to live, were taken by 
platoons to a scarred and dented wall and shot to 
death. This spot is hallowed ground to the free 
man of to-day. We stood before it with uncovered 
heads. A little fence stakes it in, a bronze tablet 
IS set against the bullet-battered wall of rock. 
The grass before us, so luxuriant, has been 
drenched with the noblest blood of Cuba's patriots. 
The Cuban soldier guarding the gateway watclied 
us lift our hats before the sacred and consecrated 
plot of martyred earth. He bowed to us respect- 
fully as we re-entered, and it seemed to me that 
there was a deeper, kindlier glitter than casual 
greeting in his black eye. 

A great garrison of regular troops was always 
kept in military readiness in La Cabana; now a 
single company of Cuban infantry occupies the 
fortress. Cuba free and fifty Cuban soldiers in 
La Cabana; Cuba a Spanish province and fifty 
thousand bayonets to garrison and hold Havana 
down, one single town ! 

Many ancient guns yet adorn the ramparts of 
La Cabana, the newer artillery having been re- 
moved to Spain, or, some say, sunk in the sea. The 
old chapel now serves for a sleeping room for the 
Cuban guard. The bell which tolled so often for 
the lost souls of the condemned is now gone. The 
fount of holy water is a receptacle for junk. The 

243 



On the Mexican Highlands 

well-worn flight of steps ascending to the roof, no 
longer responds to the tread of the thousands of 
feet that used to press them. Right over the 
chapel, near the place where swung the bell, stood 
the garrote where, it is said, more than sixty thou- 
sand throats have been clasped and crushed by the 
iron grips. Perhaps nowhere in the world have so 
many souls been shriven as in the chapel of La 
Cabana, and nowhere have so many lives gone out 
as by this dread instrument of death. And yet, as 
we stood on this high platform, with the balmy air 
of now free Cuba filling our lungs, and watched 
the Cuban soldiery pacing their beat in the park 
below, it seemed, in the serene and restful humor 
of the day, almost incredible that only three short 
years ago, at most but four, here had been enacted 
a daily tragedy of cruelty and horror which no hu- 
man pen will ever be adequate actually to portray. 
Back in the year 1894, when I had bought a 
few Cuban bonds, and in 1896, when I had raised 
the Cuban flag on my McKinley pole at Coalburg, 
I had felt in a dim way that I was doing a thing en- 
tirely right ; but it was not until I stood upon the 
ramparts of La Cabana, and considered the mon- 
strous pitilessness of Spanish rule, and saw within 
the focus of my vision the demonstrated proof of 
cruelty beyond all conception in the present age, — 
only then, did I fully realize how God had guided 

244 



Cuba — Fortress of La Cabana 

the hearts and thews of my countrymen in render- 
ing forever impossible the continuance of these In- 
iquities. 

From La Cabana we wandered across a stretch 
of grassy sward a quarter of a mile, to the parapets 
of El Moro. Builded upon a profound rock foun- 
dation it guards the angle of the land between the 
open sea and the far shore of Havana Bay. Above 
It, as above La Cabaiia, floats the starry flag. 
Within it resides a sturdy, clean-cut, trim-built gar- 
rison of our own boys in blue. It did me good to 
see them. Vigorous and businesslike they looked. 
Young men, well-kept, clear-eyed, expressing in 
their look and gait the easy mastery of the youth- 
ful, giant power whose simple uniform they wear. 
El Moro was never a prison fortress, althotigh 
there are said to be dungeons yet undiscovered, dug 
deep into the rock base on which it stands. Nor 
Is it now a fort which could withstand an attack by 
modern guns. But in the ancient time it was an 
impregnable pile, and stands to-day, a fine exam- 
ple of what the military art taught men to build 
in centuries gone by. 

Most of the guns are old and out of date, nota- 
bly a dozen of Immense size known among the 
soldier boys as the ''Twelve Apostles," while just 
one or two of modern make poke their noses toward 
the city and the sea. 

245 



On the Mexican Highlands 

From El Moro we descended to the water's 
edge, and finding our boatman, were ferried across 
to the tranquil city. The sun was sinking behind 
the highlands in the west ; the azure sky had grown 
to purple all barred with gold and red. The golden 
light of eventide illumined the city as with an aure- 
ole. It seemed to me a hallowing benison over 
Cuba now forever free. 



246 



XXII 

Cuba — Her Fertile Sugar Lands — 
Matanzas by the Sea 

Havana, Cuba, 

December 27th. 

A cup of chocolate, a roll, a pat of guava paste, 
such was my desayuno, my breakfast. Senor 

G , Superintendent of Civic Training in the 

Schools of Cuba, had also had his morning cof- 
fee, and was awaiting me at the broad portal of 
the hotel. We call a cocha, bade the cochero drive 
us to the ferry on the bay, and were soon rattling 
through Havana's narrow, rough-paved streets. 
It was early, not yet six o'clock. But the people 
of the tropics rise betimes and the busy life of the 
day was well begun. We could look right into 
the courtyards, and even into the living rooms 
of the houses, so close did our cocha wheel to the 
open doorways and to the wide-lifted curtains of 
the glassless windows. A young mother looked 
curiously through the iron bars of a window front 
at the Americanos. She held her laughing baby 
daughter in her arms. A pair of slippered feet, 

247 



On the Mexican Highlands 



to' 



a coral necklace, a friendly smile, and it was 
clothed for the day. A family sat at a long table, 
each sipping the clear black coffee. The mother 
was smoking a huge black cigar, the father a 
cigar of more moderate size, the children were all 
smoking cigarettes. Scantily clad peddlers were 
crying their goods, one his back piled high with 
tinware. Women were carrying on their heads 
big baskets of fruit. An ancient jet-black African 
woman trudged along with a squealing shoat, tied 
by the four legs and slung to her shoulder. A 
drove of she-donkeys were standing before an open 
doorway; their owner was milking one of them, 
the buyer was^ standing near so as to be sure that 
the morning's milk should be the real thing. The 
shops, however, were not yet open. It was too 
early for buyers. But the awnings were being 
spread over the streets, so as to be ready for the 
sun when it should wax hot. 

As we approached the neighborhood of the 
bay, the press of footfarers in the streets increased. 
The narrow sidewalks and even the street itself 
were filled with men and women moving toward 
the ferry. Our cochero cracked his whip and hal- 
looed at the crowd, and they fled out of the way, 
quite good-naturedly. I was trying to light my 
cigar, but the motion of the vehicle blew out the 
match. I had just struck a third. A woman pn 

248 



Cuba — Her Fertile Sugar Lands 

the sidewalk saw my fix. She called to the cochero 
and pointed to me. He stopped his horse upon its 
haunches. He waited until my cigar was alight, 
then he drove on. Such is the custom in a city 
where every man and woman smokes and El Se- 
garo Is the King. 

At the long, low-roofed ferry house there 
was a great crowd, an uncommon press. We paid 
our cochero a peseta (twenty cents), dismissed 
him and strode among the thick of the throng. 

In its midst were a group of gentlemen in white 
panama hats and white linen clothes. One of them 
was short and stout with gray miistachios, pointed 
goatee and flowing gray hair. It was General 
Masso, the candidate of the Massoista Party for 
President. I had met him the night when he made 
his great speech to his cheering followers in front 
of the Hotel Pasaje, and told them all to refrain 
from voting when the day for elections should 
arrive, "for were not all the Palmaistas scoundrels 
and thieves and would-be usurpers of power, 
backed, too, by Yankee bayonets ! What use was 
It to vote or try to vote against such combinations 
for wrong and ill ? No ! let the Massoistas remain 
at home, and by the smallness of the vote cast 
let the world see that the real strength of the 
Cuban people was not with Palma, the puppet of 
American power, but with the real people of Cuba, 

249 



On the Mexican Highlands 

whose day would in the future surely come I" And 
had not the assembled multitude filled the air with 
shouts of '^ Bravo I Viva MassoF* With him was 
Senor Hernandez, candidate for the Vice-presi- 
dency of the Massoista Party, who had also stood 
on a pile of boxes and stirred the excited multi- 
tude with eloquence even more Intemperate. And 
there was also Sehor Gualberto Gomez, the great- 
est orator of Cuba, short, stout, gray-haired, with 
gold spectacles — a Spanish mulatto, the real leader 
of the great, turbulent, Afro-Spanish race ; the pow- 
erful backer of the Massolstas, who it is said, had 
welded the third of Cuba's Negro-Spanish popula- 
tion into a solid political machine, bounden to- 
gether with the secret ties of occult brotherhood. 
His Impetuous eloquence it was which swept the 
Constitutional Convention, and carried the plank 
for universal suffrage triumphantly to victory 
against predetermined plans of the Conservative 
leaders. He would now have his following hold 
the balance of power in Cuba, and so rule the 
Island as does his race In Haytl and San Domingo ! 
For the present, he would use the Massolstas and 
their pro-Spanish propaganda, later he would 
throw aside the Spanish following and himself 
rule Cuba through the power of his organized 
blacks. Young Garcia was there, too, the son 
of the great leader, discontented with the minor 

250 



Cuba — Her Fertile Sugar Lands 

role Palma and the Americans have permitted him 
to play, and anxious for a Cuba wholly free from 
the interference of the American as well as the 
Spaniard. Yes, these leaders were all there, and 
the great square before the ferry house was packed 
with a cheering multitude to bid them good-bye, 
and Masso *'God speed" on his journey to his 
plantation home. When I met these gentlemen 
before, I enjoyed free and frank talk with them, 
and they had made no scruple in voicing to me 
their policies and demands: — their determination 
to rule or ruin ; their policy to refrain from voting 
and then later rise in armed revolt. This morning 
they were all gathered here to take a last farewell 
of their really loved chief, Masso, a fine old patriot 
with a famous war record, whom many now think 
that men more cunning than himself are using for 
their own selfish ends. 

The ferryboat was ancient in make and slow 
in movement. We were to cross the bay to the 
little suburb where we were to take the train which 
was to carry us through the rolling country and 
level plains of middle Cuba into the rich and fer- 
tile sugar-producing province of Matanzas. 

Our track over the now clear waters of the 
bay led us close alongside the crushed and bended 
wreckage of the United States Steamship Maine, 
while not far beyond lay at easy anchor three mod- 

251 



On the Mexican Highlands 

ern warboats of the navy, the Kearsarge, the KeU' 
tucky and the Massachusetts, a proud trio for 
Spanish and Cuban eyes to look upon. The wreck 
still lies there, its lonely foremast a mournful mon- 
ument to the tragedy it marks. 

The railroad runs almost due east, from the 
low-lying suburbs, and passes close by the village 
of Guanabacoa, where were gathered so many of 
the reconcentrados, where Spanish cruelty devel- 
oped its most wanton crimes, and where yellow 
fever played most deadly havoc with Spaniard and 
with Cuban alike. We sped between rolling grass- 
covered hills, passing great groves of that most 
graceful and stately of tropic trees, the royal palm, 
large plantings of luxuriant bananas, and many 
cocoanut palms as well. The country was more flat 
than toward the west, and soon we were moving 
through wide reaches of the feathery sugar cane. 
There were miles of it, leagues of it, and all taller 
and more robust than the cane I saw while travers- 
ing the sugar lands of Louisiana. 

In the black, deep and wonderfully fertile soil, 
the cane grows without care or heed. Here the 
cane once planted need not be reset for full twenty 
years, and the stock may be cut at six months* in- 
tervals through all that time. No wonder the 
sugar-growers of Louisiana cry aloud, for they 
must reset their roots every third year, and can 

252 



Cuba — Her Fertile Sugar Lands 

only count on two sugar crops from that; while 
their cane does not yield nearly so much sugar to 
the ton as the crops from these Cuban lands. Nor 
can the sugar grower of the Florida Everglades 
compete with the fertility of Cuba. Seven years, 
at most, to a single root is there the limit, five 
years is more often the rule, and the stalk is but 
little sweeter than that of Louisiana growth. The 
American sugar men are now scouting the land in 
Cuba. I met them from Louisiana and from Texas 
and from Florida. They are bound to come in 
numbers greater yet. 

For many miles we traversed these waving 
cane fields, passing many villages and smoking 
sugar mills at work, teams of fat oxen hauling in 
the cane, miniature railroads dragging in long 
train loads of cane to the factories, and thousands 
of men and many women working in the fields, 
these lifting their faces from toil to gaze momen- 
tarily at our train as it hurried by. 

At one station a bridal company entered the 
train ; the groom was clad in black broadcloth, the 
bride was gowned in soft white fabric, a graceful 
white mantilla of priceless lace falling over her 
thick black braids. Their friends were all there 
to see them off, and cheered with many vivas, show- 
ering them with rice as they entered the car. fol- 

253 



On the Mexican Highlands 

lowed by the burly bulk of the cassock-clad padre 
who had made them one. 

Matanzas, which claims to be the most health- 
ful city of all Cuba, is situated some fifty miles al- 
most due east of Havana facing a beautiful bay, 
and spans the mouths of two small rivers, whose 
verdant valleys stretch behind the town. The city 
is ancient, and is spread for the most part along 
a high, long, sloping hill, or several hills, stretching 
back and up from the arm of the sea on which it 
lies. Here has been wrought under the skillful 
supervision of General Wilson, the most successful 
of the sanitary regenerations of any Cuban town. 
The city has been sewered in modernwise and 
macadamized with care, and is supplied with 
abundance of purest water. 

We alighted at the commodious railway sta- 
tion, a larger and better structure for its purpose 
than any I have yet seen in Cuba. We entrusted 
ourselves to the care of a tawney-hued cochero, 
who galloped us away toward the heart of the 
town. We followed a long, level, wide street, 
crossed a substantial iron bridge over the river San 
Juan, made a sharp turn, climbed a steep pitch of 
hill and stopped before the chief hotel. Here is 
a little courtyard, at the farther end of which 
hangs a life-size portrait of Jose Marte, the mar- 
tyred patriot. We sat in the patio, where palms 

254 




A GLIMPSE OF MATANZAS 



Cuba — Her Fertile Sugar Lands 

waved over us, and coffee and delicious fish were 
brought to us along with a basket of oranges such 
as even Florida cannot well surpass. Lighting our 
cigars, we now sauntered into the fine, old-fash- 
ioned, Spanish gardens of the Plaza, laid out with 
precise symmetry and guarded by low iron fences 
set on bases of carved stone, the flowering shrubs 
and many blooming plants being half hid by the 
iron and the rock. 

We viewed the cathedral, a small square-tow- 
ered edifice in ill repair, and then visited the elab- 
orate and commodious building for the public 
school, now in vacation emptiness, and then we 
strolled to the market where fruits and fish were 
in especial abundance; and we noted everywhere 
the multitude of Cubans tan and black, for many 
negroes live in salubrious Matanzas. 

Then we climbed the long hill, until, high 
behind the town, we came to a hedge of cac- 
tus, an open, gate, an old and half-dismantled 
house. Voices of children rang out as we ap- 
proached the wide piazza. A blue-eyed man 
with firm and kindly face, a little pinched and 
pale, but alight with high purpose, greeted us 
at the door. He had made here a home for 
motherless waifs, the riffraff and refuse of the 
reconcentrado camps, whom Spanish heartless- 
ness and hunger had not utterly destroyed. The 

255 



On the Mexican Highlands 

man came from Illinois, and with his own small 
means had gathered these few score children, all 
little boys here, a separate home for the little girls 
yonder across the hill; had drawn to him a com- 
pany of kindly Cubans, and here set up and now 
successfully maintains, asking no outside aid or 
alms, these homes and schools for the saving of 
the little bodies and their souls. The youngsters 
are the picture of good health. Their fare is the 
simplest; their instruction kindly, their play hours 
long. They grow and thrive, and some day will be 
men and women who will help Cuba's destiny for 
weal and not for woe. I grouped the little lads 
together and took them with my kodak, and cher- 
ish the picture, in sad contrast with the party of 
little Mexican boys who left our ship at Progresso, 
all unconscious of the brutal slavery and death 
awaiting them. 

We also visited the beautiful and simple shrine 
and chapel of Monserrat, erected by the descend- 
ants of those who came to Cuba from the Balearic 
Isles. This shrine crowns the summit of a hill 
overlooking the city. We here tarried long, view- 
ing the wide reach of landscape stretching as far 
as the eye could see in undulating plains toward 
the south, with everywhere vistas of ripening cane, 
while northward wound the fertile valley of 
Ymurri toward the famous caves of Bellmar. 

256 



Cuba — Her Fertile Sugar Lands 

*^Veni aci, Charley Blue-eyes," they called after 
us as we passed along the narrow streets. Some 
of the voices possessed the cadent melody of the 
Spanish maiden, but we did not deign to turn, 
for who would be so bold as to call us ^'Charley 
Blue-eyes," we should like to know! Many chil- 
dren were playing along the curb, and few of them 
wore even a coral band around the neck. Quite 
as God made them they were, their tan and swart 
skins, showing soft as satin under the influence of 
sunlight and fresh air. We were loath to bid adieu 
to the delightful city, and I shall never forget the 
charm of its picturesque location, the perfection 
of its smooth macadam streets, the cleanliness of 
its white and blue and yellow houses. Yellow was 
the hue most used and loved by the Spaniards, 
blue is the color for the patriotic Cuban. Since 
Spanish oppression has left the shores of Cuba, 
the towns and cities have been going through a 
steady metamorphosis from the yellow to the blue. 

We lingered upon the fine iron bridge span- 
ning the river San Juan, watching the abundant 
traffic of the waters beneath us, composed chiefly 
of fishing and fruit boats, although some were 
laden with more bulky commerce. At a little shop 
just across the bridge, we tarried to fill our pock- 
ets with delicious cigars, cheaper than even our 
stogies at home; and we let the boy behind the 
17 257 



On the Mexican Highlands 

counter take up a huge cocoanut in its green husk 
and with his big knife hack it open and pour out 
the Hquor within. "Milk," they call it, but more 
like nectar it is, and he filled two deep glasses 
whose contents we quaffed with great content. 

The stars were out when we returned to the 
city of Havana. The American squadron was 
ablaze with electric lights, and only the gloomy 
mast of the Maine, thrusting above the placid wa- 
ters, hinted at the final provocation to war which 
so short a time ago brought to Cuba peace with 
liberty. 



258 



^: P^ 




DRESSED FOR THE DAY 



XXIII 

Cuba — The Tobacco Lands of Guana- 
jay — The Town and Bay of Mariel 

GuANAJAY, Cuba, 

December 28th. 

It was dark. Through the wide-open window 
of my chamber crept the soft morning air of the 
tropics. Some one was shaking my door and 
crying, ''Hay las seis, Hay las sets/* It was six 
o'clock. I was to leave on the seven o'clock train 
for Guanajay, and the fertile tobacco plantations 
of PInar del Rio. In the spacious, airy dining 
room, I was the first guest at desayuno. 

The railways of Cuba and the railway coaches 
are yet of the antiquated sort. Our car must have 
been made fifty years ago, with Its small seats of 
hard plank and windows without glass. The clerk 
who sold tickets spoke no English. I just kept 
putting down Spanish dollars until he said ''has- 
tante" (enough). Later, I found that, presuming 
on my Ignorance and the throng pushing behind 
me, he had gathered In two dollars too much, to 
his personal profit. The railway Is owned by Eng- 

259 



On the Mexican Highlands 

lishmen, although run by Cubans. We rolled 
slowly out of the city toward the west. We looked 
upon high stone walls, now and then catching a 
glimpse of a garden through an open gateway, and 
then ran between perfectly tilled market gardens 
with rich black soil, many Chinamen working in 
them. 

Beyond the gardens, we passed stately build- 
ings and the beautiful park surrounding the Span- 
ish Captain General's summer palace, where are 
ponds and fountains, palms and blooming shrubs. 
All these are now owned by the Republic of Cuba, 
and are some day to be converted into a pleasure 
ground for the people, just as are in France the 
ancient royal palaces and gardens of Versailles 
and Fontainebleau. As our train rolled west. It 
gradually approached a range of hills, where are 
now many pineapple farms, yielding pineapples 
which put the tiny Florida plant to the blush — big, 
luscious and juicy. A young man from Boston 
sat next me. He was looking for pineapple land. 
He meant to quit the snow and ice of New Eng- 
land. He would buy a plantation and settle and 
live in Cuba, where, thank God, the Ice blight 
never comes, where man has only to plant and 
nature abundantly does the rest. We passed many 
orange groves, and lemon and lime and mango 
trees which the Spaniards had failed to destroy. 

260 



Cuba — Tobacco Lands of Guanajay 

Their branches were heavy with yellow, golden, 
ripe fruit. Here, where is no terror of frosts, 
many a frozen-out Floridian is now arrived or is 
on the way. The orange of Cuba is sweet, juicy 
and luscious, and some day Americans will here 
raise them and sell them in New York, and in this 
way win back the money they have lost in Florida. 
As we passed along, we traversed many sugar plan- 
tations, once cultivated, now abandoned. The 
black and ruined chimneys and dilapidated walls 
of their factories were eloquent witness of devas- 
tation and war. But the smaller farmsteads looked 
prosperous. Beside each dwelling was usually a 
grove of plantains and bananas. The latter, com- 
monly thin skinned and fragrant, are as small as 
two of your fingers and most delicious. A young 
couple plant a banana grove when they set up 
housekeeping, and thereafter have bananas at hand 
all their lives. 

At many of the houses we saw the Cuban flag 
floating from the staff top. ^^Ciiha Lihre'* is in the 
hearts of all these rural people. I told a Cuban 
fellow-passenger, that I, too, had raised that flag, 
the first to do so in my State, and he thereafter 
treated me like a brother. I had touched his heart. 
We passed a deep, wide stream, flowing with a 
clear full tide. It is the overflow from the won- 
derful spring which supplies to Havana its water. 

261 



On the Mexican Highlands 

It bursts from the ground a full-grown river. 
Havana has dammed it, bridled it, and through 
huge pipes, carries its abundant and pellucid flood 
into her streets and houses, furnishing fresh, sweet, 
pure water for the multitude. A few miles further 
on, we saw another river plunge suddenly into the 
bowels of the earth. Full and brimming it flows 
along, and then all at once disappears forever into 
a mysterious hole. The Spaniards have here raised 
a chapel and set up a big cross, for must not this 
engulfing cavern be one of the gates to hell ? And 
what more certain than a house of God to frighten 
off the devil! 

We are now in the midst of some of the finest 
tobacco lands of the world. This part of Cuba 
is founded on a coral reef. The lime of the coral 
has here permeated the ground. Red and choco- 
late and brown-black, the soil contains just those 
chemical ingredients which tobacco needs. No 
other land has anywhere yet been found just like 
it, and no other tobacco grows with quite the same 
fragrant quality of leaf. All the world wants this 
Cuban tobacco. Therefrom the French govern- 
ment makes and sells cigars and cigarettes and 
reaps great revenues. The Germans also want the 
Cuban tobacco lands, and the enterprising Amer- 
ican intends sooner or later to have his share of 
them. How would you feel, my smoking brother, 

262 




ALONG THE MILITARY ROAD, 
A CEIBA TREE 



Cuba — Tobacco Lands of Guanajay 

to be able to enjoy a delicious Havana cigar, to roll 
it between your lips and inhale the perfume of its 
smoke, all for the price of three cents or perhaps 
a nickel? The Americans are quietly acquiring as 
great an acreage as possible of the tobacco lands 
of Cuba. These lands are mainly held in small 
farms of four and five acres, each worked by a sin- 
gle family, who devote all their attention to the 
planting of the seed, the raising of the crop, the 
drying of the leaf, and even the final making of 
the finished cigar. They sell the cigars at their 
door, or take them to the town and sell them to 
the dealers, who buy and then put on their own 
labels and place them in the market. Nowhere 
in the United States will nature permit a tobacco 
leaf to stay on the plant until it is fully ripe; there 
Is too much fear of frost. But In Cuba the leaf 
hangs to the stalk In the sunshine until it has 
reached that degree of ripeness which Insures the 
most perfect tone and flavor. Thus It Is, there can 
be no other tobacco just like Cuba's, for nowhere 
on earth 't Is said, do soil and climate and human 
skill so aptly and completely combine to make the 
product perfect. There are three Islands of the 
sea where the soil is rich and fertile beyond all 
other lands; the Island of Java, owned by the 
Dutch; the Island of Luzon, chief of the Phll- 

263 



On the Mexican Highlands 

ippines, and the island of Cuba. And in this one 
product, it is claimed that Cuba surpasses them all. 
We left the train at Guana jay — once a tobacco 
town of importance, then blasted and wasted by 
war, burned and ravaged, and now regaining its 
life and vigor. Here we took an open carriage 
and drove toward Mariel, upon a noble highway 
quite sixty feet wide, and all macadamized and 
ditched — a Spanish military road, once lined and 
shaded with gigantic and umbrageous trees; now 
bare of this magnificent bordery by reason of the 
war. The Spanish soldiery cut them down, lest 
here and there an insurgent might lie concealed. 
The road wound over a line of low hills, and then 
descended to the sea. Along the ridge, at intervals, 
were yet to be seen the * 'blockhouses" of the west- 
ern Spanish Trocha. My friend. Captain Reno, 
beside me, had been an officer of the insurgent 
army. An American volunteer, with blood full 
of red corpuscles, he served all through the revo- 
lutionary struggle, fighting the Spaniards just for 
the joy of war. He crossed this Trocha with 
Gomez in his famous raid. The Spanish soldiers 
hid within their houses and shot from their loop- 
holes. But Gomez and Reno cut down the wire 
barriers, rode through and dared to enter the 
suburbs of Havana. The superb road gradually 
winds toward the bay of Mariel. On our way, we 

264 



Cuba — Tobacco Lands of Guanajay 

passed a new railroad being built by Americans, 
back to an asphalt lake; Mariel will be their port, 
the bay their harbor. 

Near to us on the left lay another American 
colony, — a group of Western folk who have come 
to Cuba to stay. The bay of Mariel, next to that 
of Havana, is the finest harbor on the western 
coast. At its entrance, high on a reef, lies the 
Spanish warship, Alfonso XII, driven on the rocks 
by American naval guns. Along the shores of 
this beautiful bay, it is said, will grow up the Nev/- 
port of Cuba. Nowhere are there so well- pro- 
tected waters, nowhere is there so picturesque a 
panorama. Here you see palms, royal, cocoanut, 
and date, and fields of sugar cane and groves of 
bananas, oranges and pomegranates, and then the 
foaming, restless sea far out beyond. On the cor- 
ner of a shaded street, close by the blue waters 
of the bay, we stopped at a modest, unpainted 
house. Within it we met a clear-eyed, sweet-faced 
woman — a lady from North Carolina, a Miss Ed- 
wards, who came to Cuba, after the devilments of 
Weyler had wrought their sad havoc, and gath- 
ered up a little company of starving girls, and here 
has given them a home — forty or more of them. 
She asks no outside aid. She is spending her own 
small means. The people of the town, with their 
Spanish pitilessness of heart, do not understand why 

265 



On the Mexican Highlands 

she should be doing so strange a thing as to pick 
up and care for the dirty progeny of dying and 
dead vagabonds. Better let such a litter die, they 
say. She told us that she was much alone, that 
even yet the good people of Mariel treated her 
with suspicion. If she were a government official, 
they could comprehend, but they cannot understand 
how or why anybody should take so great a care 
of waifs and strays, all for the sake of the hu- 
manity of our Lord. 

We spent the night at Guana jay in an old 
Spanish inn, very tumbled down, partly as the re- 
sult of time, largely as the result of war. We ate 
our evening meal in a spacious, lofty chamber, sit- 
ting at a long table. The company was chiefly 
made up of tobacco planters, and one or two Cu- 
ban drummers, while right in front of us sat a 
Spanish marquis and his wife with their English 
governess for the children. They were visiting 
Cuba to inspect the ancestral sugar estates, and 
arrived only the week previous from Spain. They 
treated the company with haughty indifference, 
and ignored the poor English girl as though she 
were socially altogether out of their sphere. They 
helped themselves and talked to the children, while 
the governess foraged for herself or went without. 
It reminded me of those mediaeval times one reads 
about, when the clergyman resident in the castle 

266 



Cuba — ^Tobacco Lands of Guanajay 

of the lord sat at a table In the servant's hall. We 
took pains to see that the English girl received 
every attention, the Marquis glowering savagely 
upon us when we passed a dish to the governess 
rather than to his wife. When the meal was over 
the pair stalked loftily from the dining hall, leav- 
ing the governess to smile upon us in return for 
our pronounced civilities, momentarily made happy, 
for the first time perhaps in many months. 

In the evening we visited the large Reform 
School for boys, which has been established by the 
military authorities of our government for the 
care of waifs whom the cruel reconcentrado pol- 
icy of Weyler deprived of kith and kin. The chil- 
dren looked well-fed and content, and the courteous 
Governor, a major In the army, assured us that they 
throve and learned, gave little trouble, and bade 
fair to become good men and citizens. It is in 
this sort of thing, the Home for the little boys 
near Matanzas, the charity of Miss Edwards at 
Marlel In caring for the motherless little girls, 
the charity of our government in providing so 
generously for these boys, that is seen the differ- 
ence in spirit of American civilization from the 
hard and callous pltllessness of Spain. The Span- 
iard and the Cuban care for their own with ten- 
derness, but they look with indifference upon the 
suffering of others, nor do they comprehend why 

267 



On the Mexican Highlands 

they should lift a finger to help anyone beyond 
the narrow circle of their own family or social set. 

We have also called upon a big, gaunt, sunny- 
faced man who is devoting his life to these peo- 
ple as a missionary of the Congregational Church. 
He is from Massachusetts, a man of education who 
preaches fluently in Spanish, and whose labors 
have met extraordinary success among the Cuban 
population of Key West. He has now been trans- 
ferred to Guana jay, and already is creating a pro- 
found impression in a community which has never 
before known aught but an indifferent Roman 
priest. 

The religious conditions of Cuba are pecu- 
liar, I am told. The Bishops and Priesthood of 
the Roman Church have been supplied by old 
Spain from time immemorial. The black sheep 
of the Church have found asylum here. Drawing 
their salaries, fretting in exile, these ne'er-do- 
wells of the motherland have cared little, and done 
less, for the spiritual welfare of their flocks. 
Guana jay is reputed to be a community among the 
most spiritually darkened of all Cuba. Hence, it 
is with no little wonderment that the active, en- 
lightening methods of Mr. Frazier are viewed by 
those among whom he now ministers. The wo- 
men come to him for solace and advice, the chil- 
dren flock to his singing school, and the Sunday- 

268 



Cuba — ^Tobacco Lands of Guanajay 

school in the afternoon is filled with old folks and 
young, who come to him after the hours of Mass. 
Even the local padre himself finds this strange her- 
etic so pleasant a companion that he frequently 
drops in to share a cigar and gossip of the times. 
If Americans are to make impression spiritually 
upon this Latin-Catholic population of Cuba, they 
will do it only through such intelligent personal 
and sympathetic methods as are here employed. 
Mere perfunctory Protestant ecclesiasticism makes 
no impression upon these Latin-Catholic peoples. 

Sunday morning we arose while the stars yet 
blazed, found a cup of coffee for our desayuno at 
a little restaurant across the street, and at five 
o'clock were in the cars again traveling toward 
Havana. 

The country we have been looking on is quite 
as beautiful as the more flat-lying, but not more 
fertile region about Matanzas, and I have felt 
that the many Americans we have met everywhere, 
all looking for land to buy and to abide upon, are 
in happy quest. They are entering into one of the 
veritable garden places of the earth and many 
more of my fellow-countrymen will surely follow 
them. 



269 



XXIV 

Steamer Mascot 

Steamer Oli'veite, between Havana and Key West, 

December 31st. 

One learns to rise early in these tropical lands. 
The midday siesta here affords the rest which we 
are wont to claim for the early morning hours. I 
have readily acquired the habit. To lie abed is 
become a burden. I stir abroad betimes as do all 
others. And I am sleepy also toward midday, 
and quite inclined to take a nap when the heat is 
most intense. I recall that two years ago when com- 
ing home from France, the only stateroom I could 
obtain upon the Wilhelm der Grosse, was already 
partly taken by a gentleman from Mexico. I 
doubted whether it would be pleasant to chum with 
a stranger, but I had no choice, so made the 
best of it. He had the upper berth, I slept below. 
But although we were a week upon the sea, I 
never saw him, and I do not to-day know who he 
was. I was asleep before he turned in. I was 
still asleep when, at break of dawn, he passed out 

270 




THE WRECK OF THE ALFONSO XII 



Steamer Mascot 

to pace the decks. He took his midday siesta when 
I was enjoying the midday sun, or resting upon my 
sea-chair. I then wondered at the persistent habit 
which drove him from a comfortable bed almost 
before the night was spent. Now I comprehend 
his ways, and if I were to voyage seaward to-mor- 
row, I should be rising with the dawn. Yesterday 
morning I had risen at four o'clock, and had taken 
my desayuno at an hour when those at home are 
sunk In sleep. 

Overnight a great storm has arisen. I tried to 
find out at the hotel about the weather, but In 
Havana weather reports are unknown. The Span- 
ish clerk at the hotel smiled at me most conde- 
scendingly for asking so silly a question as, "Is a 
storm likely to be coming from the North or the 
South, or anywhere; and what sort of a day are 
we likely to have to-morrow?" Bowing politely, 
he spoke In sneering undertone to his Spanish com- 
panion, and then In broken English said to me, "I 
never hear even an American ask a question like 
that, Senor. How we know what the weather is 
to be ? God makes the weather Senor, not you or 
I." And they both smiled upon me with super- 
cilious contempt. They took me for a fool. Only 
a fool would pretend to ask what Providence might 
have In store. So much for the Weather Bureau 
and the yet mediaeval Spaniard ! 

271 



On the Mexican Highlands 

When we left the harbor a few hours later, a 
great sea was tossing gigantic breakers above the 
ramparts of El Moro. We plunged into the fury 
of a Norther, which turned out to be one of the 
wildest gales of the midwinter. I might have put 
off departure a day or two if I had known of it, 
but Spanish ignorance sent me out in a small and 
laboring boat to make the dangerous ninety miles 
across the straits in the face of such a storm. 

After my breakfast, a Spanish hall-boy of the 
hotel had struggled down the successive stairways 
with my valise. Ordinarily, we would have taken 
the new electric elevator, but the American com- 
pany which recently installed it had recalled their 
experts, and the Spaniard supposed to run it in 
their place had promptly put the machine out of 
order. The cage now hung fast about half-way 
up the shaft awaiting American skill to set it 
moving. 

One of the many cochas drawn up before the 
loggia of the hotel was soon carrying me to the 
Caballerio Pier, there to have my trunks and bags 
stamped with the certificates of the health officers 
of the port, and checked through for the journey 
to Tampa. And then I went up to a little bird 
shop on Calle Obispo, and took charge of a clever 
parrot, for which I had arranged the day previous, 
— a bird brought from the Isle of Pines, with green 

272 



Steamer Mascot 

body, white head, pink throat. She is named 
Marie, and yesterday she talked to me long and 
loud in Spanish. Along with her I purchased also 
a pair of pretty love birds. Perhaps I may tell 
you that the Marie with which we reached Flor- 
ida could talk no Spanish, and the pair of pretty 
parakeets, instead of being loving mates, turned 
out to be two fighting males. But all of this I only 
learned when many leagues distant from the soft- 
eyed sehora who sold them to me in the little shop 
on the Calle Obispo. 

Our boat was named the Mascot, and well was 
It so christened, for the fierce billows tried her 
seaworthiness to the limit. The Norther which 
broke its fury upon the coasts of Yucatan did not 
arouse so angry a sea as that which fought the cur- 
rents of the Florida Strait. 

The greater number of our passengers were 
Cubans going across to work in the tobacco fac- 
tories at Key West. It was apparently their first 
experience of the sea. They filled the forward 
decks, and gay and lively was their company as 
they waved their adios to their shouting friends 
ashore. The tempestuous waters caught us before 
we even left the bay. We were steaming out dead 
in the teeth of the gale, and the little boat pitched 
until she almost stood on end, and rolled as though 
her gunwales would be every time awash. Our 
i8 273 



On the Mexican Highlands 

Cubans soon lost their speech and then their break- 
fasts, and were at last filled with fear alone. They 
were scarcely recovered when we made fast to 
the long pier at Key West, and did not regain their 
cheerfulness until their legs were firmly set upon 
the land. 

Key West boasts a larger Cuban-Latin popu- 
lation than native American, and sonorous Span- 
ish speech falls more frequently upon my ear than 
th-i-th-ing- s-i-s-sing- English; yet I behold the 
Stars and Stripes floating above me and know my- 
self at home. 

My journey through Mexico and Cuba is at an 
end, and I am returned to the United States. I 
now experience again the same shock of transition 
which so moved me when a few weeks ago I 
crossed the Rio Grande and entered Mexico. For 
many days have I beheld and felt the puissant 
tenacity of a civilization older than my own ; a civ- 
ilization once world-dominant and still haughty 
and assertive, which begat arrogant war-lord and 
subservient slave, which exalted the few and 
crushed the many, and which to-day while it ap- 
plauds and assumes the outward habiliments of 
democracy, yet underneath retains the flesh and 
blood of despotic individualism ; a civilization, nev- 
ertheless, marked by the highest appreciation of 
all that appeals to the finer senses in splendor of 

274 



Conclusion 

religious ritual, in sensuousness in art, and in the 
graceful and the ornate in architecture; in music 
and in belles-lettres. 

For the masterful rule of Diaz I had come 
prepared, but of the numerous well-ordered and 
well-built Mexican cities I had no thought. The 
discovery that here had been successfully applied 
the principles of municipal ownership of public 
utilities centuries before Chicago, San Francisco, 
and New York had debated their problems, came to 
me as a revelation, and when I beheld the noble 
cities of Mexico, of Toluca, of Morelia, of San 
Louis Potosi, of Monterey, and many others, 
giving for three hundred years free water and 
free illumination to their people, and through- 
out these centuries adorned with well-kept parks 
where flowers bloomed, artistic fountains flowed, 
and music played, for the free enjoyment of the 
poorest peon as well as the millionaire grandee, I 
was fain to bethink me whether the practical, 
money-getting American might not after all take 
lessons from his Latin brother of the South. 

The romance of Mexico's early history, the 
travail and triumph of Montezuma and Malinche, 
of Pagan teocali and Christian cross, stirred my 
imagination and aroused my interest to highest 
pitch, while the present progressiveness of Mex- 
ico's people, the enlightenment of her leaders, the 

275 



On the Mexican Highlands 

noble efforts she has made, and is now making to 
keep step with the procession of human progress, 
excited my sympathyo 

Nor have I ceased to marvel at the extraor- 
dinary geographic and climatic gifts which nature 
has so lavishly bestowed upon this favored land ; a 
country where every climate from the heats of 
Yucatan to the cool airs of Quebec are brought to- 
gether within the compass of a journey of a single 
day; where teeming tropics and fertile highlands 
alike pour out their f ruitfulness for the use of man ; 
where alone upon the North American Continent 
has beneficent nature presented conditions which 
made it possible for mankind to develop an indig- 
enous civilization of advancing type; — upon these 
plateaus existed well-built stone-and-mortar cities 
centuries before Cortez and the Spaniard set foot 
upon her shores; here successful agriculture has 
prevailed in uninterrupted continuity for a thou- 
sand years ; here precious metals have been dug and 
worked by man for unnumbered centuries; and 
upon these salubrious highlands more than a mile 
above the sea, beneath the shadows of her snow- 
capped Sierras, man has developed, and may yet 
develop, the highest energy of the temperate zones. 

I confess that despite a general knowledge, I 
yet entered Mexico ignorant, sadly ignorant, of 
one of the most splendid portions of the earth^s do» 

2/6 



Conclusion 

main, and while my glimpses of this great country 
have necessarily been limited and partial, yet I 
have seen enough of her mineral and agricultural 
wealth, the solidity and comfort of her cities, the 
vigor and intelligence of her people, to assure me 
that the Republic of Mexico is destined to be no 
puny factor in promoting the advancement of the 
world, as well as the further increase in riches and 
power of the sister Republic wherein I dwell. 

Nor has my transitory glimpse of Cuba, "Pearl 
of the Antilles,*' as she is, caused me the less to 
marvel at the abounding fertility which constitutes 
her a veritable garden, and the charm of her cli- 
mate, free of all frosts, yet temperate enough, 
amidst the cooling breezes of the all-surrounding 
seas, to make her the home of white races which 
hold fast to their primitive energies although 
within the tropics. While in Imagination I behold 
her, at no distant date, taking her proud place 
among the galaxy of States of the great Republic 
of the North and vying with the most splendid 
of them in opulence and power. 



277 



INDEX 

Page 
ACAMBARO, 46-87 

AcAPULCO, Highway to, 99 

Alamo, The, 41 

Anahuac, Valley of, 52 

Ario, 107 

Arrive at City of Mexico, 54 

AzTECA Mines, 135 

Balsas, The Rio, 152 

Boys, The Little Stolen, Etc., 214 

BuENA Vista, Battlefield of, 46 

Bull Fight, A, 75 

CABAf^A La, The Fortress, 236 

Cathedral, City of Mexico, 61 

Charleston-Kanawha, Leaving, 15 

Chocolate, A Cup of, 159 

Church, Roman, 61-63-178 

Churumuco, 155 

CiMA, La, 52 

Comments on Municipal Methods, 172 

Copper Industry and Utensils, 102 

Cotton Lands of Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, - - 21-40-43 

Crossing Florida Strait, 273 

Cruelty of the Spanish Blood, 118 

Cruelty, Spanish, Burying alive, 237 

Cuban, A Mansion, 232 

279 



Index 

Page 
CUERNAVACA, 188 

CuYACO, The Hacienda La, - - - - - - 123 

CuYACO, The Rancho, 159 

Descending La China Mine, 137 

El Padre, 95-187 

English, Spread of the Language in Mexico, - - - 174 
Fiesta of Our Lady of Guadaloupe, - - - 165-185 

Fonda Diligencia, - - - 97 

French Market, New Orleans, 31 

French Quarter, The Vieux Carre, 30 

Garcia, Senor Don Licenciado Vicente Garcia, - - 170 
Guadaloupe, Fiesta of Our Lady of Guadaloupe, - - 165 
A Guest OF "Senora General" Wood, - - - 228 
Gulf of Mexico, Crossing the, - - - - - - 212 

Habana, 220 

Havana, A Private House in, 231 

Havana, Markets of, 225 

Havana, The Opera House, 228 

Hotel Concordia, " 93 

Hotel Iturbide, 55 

Hotel Jardin, Mexico City, 264 

Hotel Jardin, Morelia, 181 

HoNEL Metropolitan, 204 

Hotel Morellos, 114 

Hotel Pasaje, 221 

Hotel St. Charles, 25 

Incidents in Land of Heat, 161 

Inguran Mines, 117 

Italians in Mississippi, Etc., 22 

iztaccihuatl, volcano of, 53 

Izus Hernandes, Our Mozo, 95 

280 



Index 

Page 

Jackson Square, Reflections on History of, - - - 29 

Jefe Politico, A, 109 

Jesuits in Morelia, - - -- - -- - 180 

JoRULLO, Volcano of, 122 

Kentucky, Passing through, 17 

Lakes— . 

Chalco, 53-69 

CUITZEO, 88 

Patzcuaro, 88-99 

Tezcoco, - - - - 53-69 

Xochimilco, 53-69 

Llanos, Crossing the, 143 

Laredo, --43 

Lawyer, A Lawyer of Ario, 115 

Military Macaws, 131 

Mantillas, Buying, ------- 202 

Mariel, 264 

Masonic Bond, Strength of in Mexico, - - - - 50 
Masso, General, and the Revolution, - - - - 249 

Matanzas, 254 

Memphis, - - 21 

Mexico City, First Impression of, 56 

Mexico City, Characteristics of, 65 

Mexican Travelers, 160 

Michoacan, The Congress of the State of, - - - 168 

Mining, Antique Methods of, 129 

Mina La China, The China Mines, 136 

MiNA La China, Descending the, 137 

Mina El Puerto, 145 

Mines, The Inguran, 117 

Mississippi, Traversing State of, 23 

28 1 



Index 

Page 

Monterey, 45 

Monterey, Passing through, 45 

Moonlight, Brilliancy of, 100 

MORELIA, 89 

Morelia, Description of, 172 

Morelia, Life in, - - 176 

New Orleans, Life and Color of, 25 

New Orleans, Water Traffic, - - 37 

NoRiA Mines, 134-150 

Nuevo Laredo, 44 

Orizaba, Volcano of, 203 

Orphans from the Reconcentrado Camps, - . - 255 

Oropeo, Hacienda de, 132 

Patzcuaro, Lake, 88 

Patzcuaro, Town, 91 

PoMPANO, Eating a, 27 

Popocatepetl, Volcano of. First Sight of, - - - 53 

Prado, The, Havana, 222 

Progresso, Yucatan, 212 

Provincial Despot, A, and His Residence, - - - 107 

Pulque, 70 

Pulque, Origin of Legend, 73 

Rancho Nuevo, 120 

Ravens, 103 

Ready for Revolution, ------- 250 

Restaurants in Mexico City, Remarks on, - - - 57 

Revolution, Ready for in Cuba, 250 

Saltillo, Passing Near, 46 

Sam, "Mr. Sam," OF Vera Cruz, 205 

Saving the Children, Matanzas, 255 

Saving the Children, Mariel, ----- 265 

282 



I 



Index 

Pagb 
Santa Clara, 106 

Saving the Children, Guanajay, - - - - 267 

San Nicholas, College of, - - 180 

San Luis Potosi, 48 

San Pedro, Rancho, 126 

Scorpions, 154 

Southern Pacific Railway, - - - - - - 39 

San Antonio, 41 

Sugar Cane, Louisiana, 23-39 

Sugar Cane, Cuba, 252 

Tame Vultures of Vera Cruz, 206 

Taylor, Incident Regarding Governor, - - - 20 

Tenochtitlan, 53 

Theaters, Mexico, 199 

Tio, 93 

Titian, A Picture by. Legend of, 91 

Tobacco Lands of Guanajay, Cuba, 262 

Toluca, 181 

ToLUCA, Life in, 183 

Tortillas, Making, 132 

Vendettas of Kentucky, 17 

Vera Cruz to Cuba, 10 

ViEux Carre, New Orleans, 26 

Yucatan, 216 

Yucatan, Strait of, 217 

YucATAKA, Senator, 208 

Walled up Alive, 241 

Water-fowl on Lakes, 88 

Water to Cities and Towns, 108 

Map, 284 



283 




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